Reno of Olde London Towne
by Morello
Summary: Reno is about as low in Victorian London society as it's possible to get, while Rufus is heir to a fortune. With social convention and the law against their relationship, can love be enough to keep them together? AU, yaoi.
1. Being Like This

**I wasn't going to post this until I'd written a lot more of it, because I'm becoming a terribly slow updater, but it's cold outside, and there's not enough Reno/Rufus love going on out there at the moment, so here you go. **

**This is very AU and is a kind of Victorian soap opera. It's all just for fun - no deep themes, probably full of cliches and OOC romance, and lots of yaoi smut. (There will eventually be some het later when Tseng and Elena appear). Reno's cockney accent will become less extreme as time goes on - it's already driving me crazy. **

**Victorian London and Midgar do seem quite similar sometimes.**

**Chapter warnings - m/m, smut. **

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><p><strong>Reno of Olde Londone Towne<strong>

**Being Like This**

"And in the morning you'll be sixteen, and a man twice-over!" Frederick Shinra guffawed, waving a cheery goodbye with his cigar as he departed in the direction of the street where the handsome cab was waiting. His son, Rufus, watched his father leaving with an attempt at a nonchalant wave, and a look of trepidation in his blue eyes. _The Hive_ was famous throughout London and beyond for the beauty of its girls, the luxury of its rooms and the variety of the entertainment it offered – but all Rufus felt, as the door closed behind his father, was dread.

Only heir to his father's vast railway fortune, and, thereby, one of the most eligible bachelors in England, Rufus sat uncomfortably in a shabby red velvet arm chair, drinking his glass of wine as slowly as he could while trying to hide both his nervousness and his disgust. The 'bevy of beauties' his father had leeringly described appeared to be, for the most part, at least twice his age beneath their thickly layered powder and rouge. Their gaudy, cheap and faded silk depressed him nearly as much as their vividly painted lips and bountiful bosoms repelled him. Rufus found himself torn between the desire to make his excuses and leave, and the weary certainty that Madame Abeille would give his father a detailed account of all he said and did. Perhaps it would be better, after all, simply to get the thing over with.

He scanned the group of simpering faces around him. One younger girl leaned forward, giggling, to refill his glass, affording him an unwanted view of a rosy nipple slipping, by artful accident, from a half unlaced bodice. As always he felt nothing, and knew why, and was ashamed to his core. Still – the girl was about his own age he guessed, and her face was sweetly pretty. Perhaps, if he tried hard, it would somehow be all right?

"See anything you like, lovey?" the girl asked him, pressing close.

"You can touch if you want, Sir," an older woman added. "Lucy don't mind, do ya Luce?"

Lucy shook her head, reaching for Rufus' hand. He had a moment of panic, fighting the impulse to recoil, before allowing her to guide his hand to her breast. Her flesh was warm and soft and too full – too curved. The older woman laughed at the expression of studious concentration on his face. "Bless you, Sir – ain't you never felt a tit before? If Lucy's not to your liking, I'm Rose, and I'll show you what's what. You're a 'andsome young man, an' no mistake." Rose perched on the arm of Rufus' chair and stroked his cheek in what was clearly supposed to be a winsome fashion. "Well? What do you say, Sir? What's your pleasure?"

_Not this! _Rufus thought. _Not this!_ Aloud he managed, "I – uh – you're very kind – but –" He glanced rather desperately in the direction of the door as though he could escape by merely looking - and as he did so the door opened and someone entered the room.

A slight, pale creature in a plain green gown, the newcomer appeared to be little more than Rufus' age. Long hair hung around her face in loose ringlets, and it was the most extraordinary colour he'd ever seen – bright mahogany, titian – the colour of the hair in those paintings his father so disliked. Yes – Mr. Rossetti's models had hair that glorious shade.

"Who's she?" Rufus asked too loudly. All the girls in the lounge turned to stare at the red-haired beauty – for, now that he looked more closely, he saw that the girl's face was as beautiful as her hair.

To Rufus' surprise – and annoyance – several of the girls burst out laughing.

"_Her_?" Rose asked. "Oh – she's a rare one, _she_ is. Our little Nancy."

"Nancy?" Rufus asked. "That's her name?"

"Tonight it is," Lucy smiled. "Do you fancy her, Sir? _Some_ gentlemen like her well enough!"

Lucy's comments provoked more laughter. 'Nancy' said nothing – did not smile – only regarded Rufus calmly out of slightly slanted, vaguely feline eyes. There was something about her that was different from the other girls. She lacked their brash manners. There was something in the line of her neck, the relatively demure cut of her dress… Before he could consider Rufus said, "Yes. Her."

Madame Abeille, who had been watching proceedings from her armchair by the fire, rose to her feet, waving her hands to dismiss the other girls, who departed in a rustle of silk and stifled giggles.

"Are you certain, Sir?" she asked Rufus. "Lucy would treat you kindly. You do know that Nancy isn't like the other girls?"

"I can see that." Rufus moved closer to Nancy, who still hadn't moved. When he met her gaze he couldn't decipher her expression exactly – something wary – something amused – and a flicker of something else. Desire? It was enough for Rufus. This mysterious girl would be his salvation! He felt himself stirring – actually interested.

Madame Abeille hesitated, uncertain. Rufus Shinra was the most important potential client she'd entertained in a long time; she feared embarrassing him. "Are you sure, Sir?" she asked. "You know that she's… different?"

"Yes," Rufus said, impatient now. "It's her I want."

Madame Abeille raised an eyebrow at Nancy, who nodded, and took Rufus' hand without a word. He followed her out of the parlour, up two flights of stairs and along a narrow hallway, trying to ignore the soft sighs and moans he could hear coming from behind not quite closed doors. The entrance to Nancy's room was as highly decorated as the parlour and the corridors were: a reddish gauzy curtain was partially drawn across the entrance, and the wooden door was painted a bronze colour that was supposed to pass as gilding. Inside, however, the room was simple and sparsely furnished: an old four-poster bed with no curtains, a washstand upon which stood a bowl and ewer in a greenish glaze, a small table, a green rug. The only light in the room came from the moonlight filtering through the four panes of the narrow window. A candle in a brass holder stood upon the table, but it was unlit.

Rufus took out his matches and bent to light the candle. Then he straightened, and held out a hand to Nancy, who took it without a word. He drew her into the flickering candlelight and said, "You are beautiful."

Nancy smiled at him, and murmured, "Thank you, Sir," her voice soft and low.

"May I touch your hair?"

Nancy laughed briefly. "Yes, Sir – what you will."

"I… hardly know. This is the first time…"

Nancy froze, her expression changing in an instant. "You're not serious!" she exclaimed, her voice suddenly different – suddenly harsh.

Rufus nodded. "Is there a difficulty?"

Nancy cocked her head on one side, frowning, one hand on her hip in a most unladylike gesture. "I should damn well think so! You _do_ know what I am, don'tcha?"

Rufus suddenly realised – or allowed himself to realise what he'd subconsciously recognised from the start. Shame and fury burned in him. "You're a boy."

"You didn't know? You really didn't know 'til just then?" The boy's astonishment was laced with something else; pride at the success of his disguise perhaps?

"No!" cried Rufus, acting an outrage he wasn't entirely sure he felt. "No. Of course not! Or – at least –"

His almost-confession was lost in the sound of the boy's low whistle. "Fuck me!" the boy said, shaking his head. "But what was they thinkin' downstairs?" His expression changed again – this time to apprehension. "Don't 'old it against me, Sir," he said, and Rufus couldn't be sure whether or not he was imagining that brief flash of amusement in the boy's eyes – the quirk of his mouth as he registered the potential of the innuendo and dismissed it as inappropriate to the situation. "I never knew you was – uninitiated – I swear. I thought you wanted –"

"Who would want _that_? I'm not – not some kind of - moral degenerate!"

"Course not. But – takes all sorts – an' I see men most nights want it bad enough to pay well."

"What – they want to… to sleep with you… in a _dress_?"

"Some do, some don't. Some come 'ere on the days when I'm dressed in me own togs." The boy shrugged as though it were the most natural thing in on earth instead of the abomination Rufus knew it to be in the eyes of God.

Disconcerted he asked, "So – your hair… Is that a wig, then?"

The boy smiled. "No – it's all mine! You can touch it if you want – like you said…"

Rufus frowned, shocked and disturbed by the realisation that instead of his body recoiling at the idea, his cock was painfully hard.

"Look," said the boy more gently, moving a little closer to Rufus, "You can go, if you want. I'll tell 'em nothing' happened – you thought I was a girl, and got all riled, so you're comin' back for a real girl this time. Lucy or Esme'd see you right – they're good wiv first-timers."

"Right," said Rufus, wishing he felt more relieved at the offer of this easy escape route. "I will then."

"But – it won't work. Take it from me."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I saw how you looked at me downstairs."

"Yes!" exclaimed Rufus. "When I thought you were a girl!"

"Yeah. Exactly," the boy said. "An' now you know I ain't, you're lookin' at me hotter 'n that."

"I most certainly am not!"

"'S all right. I'm lookin' right back." The boy was gazing at Rufus intently now, no longer smiling. Rufus felt heat engulfing his body, rising into his face until his cheeks were burning.

"What do you mean?" he whispered, his mouth suddenly dry.

The boy smiled then. "You are, without a shadder of a doubt, the most 'andsome man what's ever graced these premises."

Rufus stared at him – at his sharply attractive, fine-featured face, those exotically feline eyes. "I have to go," he said.

The boy only stared back, a half smile still playing over his lovely, up-curved lips. "Shame," he said. "You are what you are. Don't see the 'arm, meself."

"Damn you!" Rufus cried, almost convinced of his own fury. "Damn this whole place to Hell! Have you no shame at all? I'm going to tell them exactly what I think of this establishment downstairs –"

"All right," the boy said, calmly. "I'm not stoppin' you, if you wanna go..."

I _am_ going!" Rufus declared, half turning towards the door, hesitating.

"Looks like it." The boy was smiling broadly again now.

Rufus turned back to him, scowling. "Now look here – I don't like your attitude –"

"What attitude?"

"That one!" Rufus stepped towards him and the boy's chin lifted defiantly so that Rufus couldn't believe he'd ever mistaken him for a girl. Feeling a sudden, helpless fury, Rufus raised his arm to strike the boy, and found his wrist seized in a powerful grip. For all his fragile appearance, the boy seemed to be amazingly strong.

"Don't," the boy said, his voice low – dangerous. "Not the way. You ain't angry at me – you're angry at bein' like this."

"I'm not 'like this'!"

Rufus tried to pull away, and the red-haired boy leaned forward and kissed him.

Frozen for an instant, Rufus felt himself poised on the edge of something and knew, in a moment of simple clarity, that he had to choose, now, whether to fling himself back, or to leap forward. He hesitated for a second, and then gave himself to the kiss completely. It was right – it was what he wanted – what he had always wanted. The boy was pulling him back towards the bed, mouth crushed against Rufus', fingers in Rufus' hair. Rufus' hands tore at the laces of the stupid dress that hadn't ever been a real disguise, pulling and shoving material away until the boy was revealed beneath him – naked, and wonderful, and male.

Rufus kissed one of the boy's small, hard nipples; licked and sucked at it, revelling in the texture of firm, erect flesh. The boy gasped beneath him, arching back on the bed, and Rufus somehow knew that his responses were more than a whore's act. He looked up at the boy's flushed face and saw that he'd closed his eyes, dark lashes individually visible against pale skin, lips parted. Rufus moved up to kiss his perfect mouth, and the boy's eyes fluttered open.

"So – so – beautiful," murmured Rufus, between hard, longing kisses.

"You – too!" panted the boy, thrusting his pelvis urgently against Rufus', his fingers working to remove Rufus' jacket, cravat, silk waistcoat, shirt.

"Fuck!" the boy swore. "Too many clothes!"

"Far too many," Rufus agreed, helping to undress himself with one hand, keeping himself balanced over the boy with the other. When, at last, Rufus was free of his clothes, he lay on top of the boy, skin warm against skin for the first time in his life, their cocks hard against each other – heat, and intense pleasure. "What's your real name?" Rufus asked, gazing into the boy's eyes.

"Reno," the boy replied.

"Reno?"

"Yeah. It's an Irish name – sort of. I'll tell you, sometime. What's yours?"

"Rufus." Rank – titles – suddenly seemed irrelevant.

Reno reached up and brushed feathery blond hair out of Rufus' eyes. He smiled in a way that sent a pulse of urgent lust coursing through Rufus' body, and murmured, "Fuck me, Rufus."

Rufus hesitated. "I – I don't –"

"Oh yeah – I was forgettin'. You kiss so good." Reno rolled Rufus underneath him, and reached down between them to stroke his shaft gently. "God, I love your prick!" he said. "So hard!" He kissed his way down Rufus' body, all that beautiful red hair falling over Rufus' chest, abdomen, hips - until Reno's mouth closed hot over Rufus' cock. Reno licked him slowly, enough to make him wet, but he could already feel the tension in the hot thickness of flesh beneath his tongue, and was careful not to suck too hard. Still, Rufus groaned in torment when Reno let his aching cock slip from his mouth and moved away. "Please!" Rufus begged, "Don't stop!"

"Here," Reno said, pulling Rufus on top of him and drawing him down into another deep kiss. Reaching between them, Reno gently positioned the head of Rufus' hard, wet cock. Looking into Rufus' eyes, Reno said, "All right. Fuck me."

Rufus thrust slowly into Reno, repeating, "Oh God! Oh _God_!" as he pushed in as deep as he could get.

"Yes – that's it," Reno gasped, trembling with the effort of holding still. He bit his lip to prevent himself moaning and stammered, "R- Rufus! Yes - do it!"

Rufus' instinct took over, and he discovered that he did know what to do after all – thrusting into Reno hard and deep, panting with exertion and pleasure. Reno tried not to move too much. For perhaps the first time in his life, he didn't want it over quickly, but he knew that such intense pleasure was unlikely to last long with a virgin like Rufus. Reno slid a hand between them, stroking his own erection, and moaned aloud when Rufus' hand closed over his, giving pleasure as well as receiving it. The sound of Reno's unfeigned lust was all it took to bring Rufus to his climax, crying out, "Reno!" and, to his own surprise, Reno followed him almost at once, his come pulsing hot between them.

Rufus lay heavily on Reno, breathing deeply, his head resting on Reno's shoulder. Reno let him lie there, stroking his soft, blond hair with one hand, the other resting very lightly on the small of Rufus' back. Reno couldn't remember a time when he'd felt more than the most fleeting desire for a customer before tonight. Sometimes, when someone was slamming into him from behind and he didn't have to look, he found himself aroused by the physical sensation of the act, but this was different entirely. He wanted to hold Rufus against him – badly wanted to go back to kissing him. But that wasn't how it worked – Rufus had done what he'd come to do – what he was paying for.

Rufus didn't seem to understand how the transaction was supposed to go. He rolled off Reno and lay beside him, propped on one elbow. He ran his fingers through Reno's red hair, looked into his eyes, and declared, "I love you!"

_Ah_, thought Reno, _you had to go an' say it, didn't you? _But he only smiled, pulled Rufus down onto his shoulder, and carried on stroking his hair. "Jus' now, I think you do," he said softly. "But then - maybe, jus' now, I love you too."

Rufus' hand strayed to Reno's hip, pulling him close. "I'll take you away from here!" Rufus exclaimed, passionate, and, at that moment, meaning every word. "I'll find somewhere we can be together – like this…"

"Nice dream," murmured Reno, for whom Rufus was the third trick of the night. One of the others – a fifty year old banker named Freeman – had been swearing undying love to Reno as 'Nancy' twice a week for over a year now, muttering _my precious girl_ while fucking him and pawing at his cock - promising him the world once his invalid wife was dead.

But for once Reno was in no hurry to get his client out of his bed. He lay with Rufus, feeling comfortable and almost happy. Eventually Rufus' breathing deepened and became slow and even. Reno opened his eyes, and looked at Rufus' face as he slept.

_The_ only _difference_, he told himself firmly, _is that this one's young, an' a looker. Christ, is he ever! But that don't mean anything he says is true. What bloke _don't _love me - for the minute after he gets off inside me? And what punter ever kept one of his sugar promises in the mornin'? No, Reno, don't go fallin' for a pretty trick now. He's shit scared of himself anyhow. Won't see him here again unless it's to force himself to go with one of the girls. _

Reno stretched, smiling to himself. It had been the best fuck, though! Such a change to feel soft, firm skin against his own – youth with youth – stripped of clothes and rank – just two lithe, strong, beautiful bodies moving together.

_Yeah, _Reno thought, _would be much too easy to fall for you, Rufus. Have to watch that! _ But when Rufus' arm reached around his waist and drew him close again, Reno didn't resist.


	2. Shame

**I finished another chapter, so I'm putting it out there! More smut - but plot will follow soon. The trial referred to here is the last of the Oscar Wilde trials, and the Marquis' son is Lord Alfred Douglas. The date is 1895. Vaseline was around by then - I did the research. I've tried to keep the language as authentic as possible, but Victorian slang sometimes sounds a bit odd now, so my characters still say fuck in contexts where they might actually have said 'tup' or 'grind' and so on. I haven't yet been able to find out what Victorian prostitutes would have called their clients. I'm using 'trick' but it sounds a bit modern to me. No one will be referring to his tackle as his Nebuchadnezzar. Probably. **

**Chapter warning: m/m again.**

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><p><strong>Chapter Two - Shame<strong>

Dawn light made its way through the grimy windowpanes in a desultory fashion – grey, and cold, and flat. Rufus opened his eyes, wondering where he was, and found that his face was pressed against warm skin. As he pulled back a little, not wanting to lose the warmth, he focussed on a milk-pale, thin shoulder, ornamented with a sparse smattering of barely-visible freckles, and a glowing cascade of red hair spilling over his own arm, over the pillow. Rufus pressed his lips against the smooth flesh of this boy – this whore – who had become his first lover. Reaching for the shame he had felt almost all his life, Rufus discovered that it had melted away with Reno's first kiss, and now he experienced nothing but certainty and relief. He was not unique – in fact, so many men felt as he did that houses such as _The Hive_ actively catered for this kind of desire. Then he remembered Reno's words on the previous evening – "I see men most nights want it enough to pay well."

_Not anymore,_ Rufus thought, jealousy suddenly sharp in him. _I don't want you seeing other men - only me__._

Rufus caressed Reno's frail-looking shoulder and ran his hand along the prominent vertebrae of his spine. It was astonishing how Reno, in his female form, managed to give the impression of being so small, when, in fact, he was much the same height as Rufus. It was the thinness that did it, Rufus supposed – the fine bones – the grace.

Rufus' hand moved lower, stroking the curve of Reno's buttocks, the hollow below his hipbone. This was what he had always yearned for – the male body – the form that matched his own: long thighs, narrow hips, muscles hard beneath the skin, the taut, tight buds of nipples, the weight of a well-shaped cock and balls. Rufus was fully hard again, nuzzling Reno's neck, his hand sliding over Reno's hips and down for a feel of Reno's own impressive erection.

"You know I should really charge double if you want to go again?" Reno asked sleepily.

"Charge what you like!" Rufus replied, reckless and needy. "I want you just as much as I did last night. No – I want you _more_, now I know what it's like. I want to stay here all day and fuck you, and kiss you, and feel your skin on mine –"

Reno turned to face Rufus and smiled. Rufus was surprised by the whiteness of his even teeth. Most people of Reno's class that he'd seen had terrible teeth – blackened, or full of gaps. Even in this cool, stark daylight, Reno was beautiful.

"Must say, I don't mind another tumble with you," Reno said, gazing at Rufus thoughtfully.

"More green," Rufus murmured.

"What?"

"Your eyes. I couldn't tell last night, but they're more green than blue."

"Yeah – red hair, green eyes. Got 'em from my mam. Irish."

"You don't sound Irish."

"Ah – I was all of six when we come to London. Now I sound a regular Bow-bells Cockney, don't I?"

"Almost. There's still something – at times."

"Is there?" Reno sounded pleased. "Not everything goes then…" A fleeting, wistful expression crossed his face – there and gone, replaced by a seductive smile. "But you ain't here to talk about me." He ran his long fingers through Rufus' short blond hair. "Ain't never been with nobody as 'andsome as you, an' that's a fact."

"And I've never seen anybody like you before," Rufus said fervently. "You're like – I don't know – some kind of _angel_!"

Reno laughed, and his laughter was low, and male. "Ain't no one's never called me _that_ before!" he exclaimed, drawing Rufus into a close embrace, his thigh moving over Rufus', their cocks touching at last.

"Have _me,_" Rufus said suddenly.

Reno went very still. "Ah – Rufus, that's… I mean - that ain't what men pay me for."

"You mean you don't like it?"

"I – I've hardly ever… I mean, no one's ever really asked."

Rufus pulled back a little, frowning. "So – you don't really like this? Is that what you're saying? You do it to make money, but really you like girls?"

"No! No, I've always been this way. There _are _plenty of boys who only do it for the readies, but I ain't one of them. It's just… I ain't never…"

"Don't you want to?"

"Hell, yes! But – it ain't all that easy, the first time. I'm used to it. I know how to… take it."

"Try," Rufus said. "Show me. Teach me."

"All right. If you're sure?"

"Yes. It was so good, being inside you. I want you inside me."

"Fuck, Rufus – you're makin' me _ache_! Never thought… But, we need to get it really… Hold on a minute..." Rolling over, Reno reached under the bed and emerged holding a small glass jar. Vaseline, Rufus realised with a little shock of recognition – like the jars in the nursery at home.

"My nurse used to put that on cuts, or if I grazed my knee," Rufus said.

"It has a lot of uses," Reno told him, smiling. He smeared the gel liberally over his own cock, and Rufus watched, feeling suddenly breathless. "Let me help," he said, seizing Reno's erection and rubbing firmly. Reno gasped. "Uh – Ru – Rufus! Not so much! I'll come before I can touch you!"

Embarrassed, Rufus released Reno's cock instantly. "Sorry!"

"No – it's good. Just – a bit too good, yeah? Now – are you sure you want me to do this?"

"Yes."

Reno rubbed more of the gel onto his fingers, and lay beside Rufus, running his hand down over Rufus' cock, stroking his balls lightly, before touching gentle fingertips to Rufus' hole. Rufus tensed a little, but relaxed as Reno kissed his mouth slowly, pushing one finger a little way into his ass as he did so.

"All right?" Reno asked.

"Yes," Rufus replied, his breath catching slightly at the unfamiliar feeling of Reno's finger inside him. The sensation was an odd mixture of pleasure and discomfort – a slight ache and, as Reno pushed deeper, a stinging sensation – but the pleasure was greater than the pain. Then Reno did something – curved his finger somehow – and Rufus cried out with shocked ecstasy, "Oh Christ! What – what was _that_?"

"Feels good, don't it?" Reno smiled.

"Yes – oh – God – yes!" Rufus managed, as Reno, with a wicked grin, did it again.

Reno played with Rufus for quite a while, eventually adding another finger, until Rufus was pushing back against his hand panting, and a look of desperation crossed his face. "Please, Reno - do it! I want to feel you inside me."

"Sure you're ready?"

"Yes! For God's sake Reno –"

Reno laughed softly. "Reckon you are, then… C'mon."

"What are you doing?" Rufus asked, confused, as Reno turned onto his back and lay smiling across at Rufus. "Aren't you going to –?"

"_You're_ goin' to," Reno explained, patting the mattress on the other side of him. "You on top."

"But I want you in _me_."

"I know. Trust me, Rufus – I know what I'm doin'."

"Yes, all right." Rufus got to his knees and straddled Reno, flushing suddenly as he realised how exposed the position made him. Reno was looking at him with frank lust, his eyes exploring every inch of Rufus' naked body and coming to rest, unabashed, on his impressively hard cock. Reno took hold of Rufus' hips, encouraging him to move forwards slightly, then said, "All right. Take your time, yeah? If it hurts, jus' stop. You don't have to do nothing if you don't want."

"I _do_ want," Rufus replied. "I want to know how it feels."

His eyes fixed on Reno's, Rufus positioned himself so that the head of Reno's hard cock was nudging at his ass. Carefully, he pushed himself down onto Reno, gasping as he felt the slick organ start to enter him. It was almost too much for a second, and he tensed, his breath catching.

"It's all right," Reno murmured, reaching up to stroke the side of Rufus' face. "We don't have to –"

"No – it's… I can. I want to. It's just so – "

"I know. Just – relax."

"Yes." Rufus held still, his breathing slowly becoming more even. Reno did his best to keep motionless beneath him, but he was more aroused than he ever remembered being before, and the urge to thrust up into that tight heat was almost overwhelming. When Rufus started moving again with no warning, Reno couldn't help moaning with the intensity of the new sensation, and Rufus heard himself making an answering sound he'd never made before – a sharp, involuntary cry that shocked him with its unrestrained rawness. Reno lost his battle to keep still, the desire for friction too powerful to resist. Reno's fingers tightened on Rufus' hips as they began to build a rhythm together that brought them both a searing pleasure. Rufus' hands were on Reno's shoulders, pushing him down onto the bed. He threw his head back and cried out again as Reno's cock hit the place he'd touched with his fingers before. Reno reached for Rufus' cock, but as he did so a shudder ran through Rufus' whole body and he came violently, moaning, "Oh –_Reno!_"

Taken by surprise, Reno found himself in the unusual position of not knowing what he was supposed to do. He didn't want it to end yet – the compulsion to keep moving was almost desperate – but he wasn't the client, and Rufus was quite obviously done.

"What's wrong?" Rufus asked, and Reno cursed himself, angry that he'd been so unprofessional as to let his uncertainty show. "Did you –"

"No," Reno replied, "But it's all right. I don't have to –"

Rufus reached down a trembling hand, to touch Reno's lips. "I want you to," he said. "I don't want you to stop."

Reno tried to say something – to check that Rufus was _sure_ – but all that came out was a groan as Rufus began to move again, trying to push himself down onto Reno. Rufus' skin was shiny with sweat and his breath came in short, hard gasps. As Reno thrust up into him, Rufus convulsed helplessly, falling forwards. Reno cried, "Ow – fuck!" as his cock bent painfully, before Rufus pulled away from him and curled into a ball on the bed beside him, sobbing with – _laughter_?

Oh.

Reno smiled. "Ticklish?" he asked.

"Not – not - normally," Rufus gasped, his laughter subsiding. He sat up, wiping tears from his eyes. "God – I'm sorry. Are you all right?"

"Yeah. That happens sometimes, when you come. Like any touch is just too much?"

Rufus nodded. "I'm sorry," he said again, "Did I hurt you?"

"It's all right – I'm fine. One time –" But Reno found that he didn't want to think about other clients. "It happens, quite often," he said, instead.

"But - I wanted it to be good for you," Rufus sighed, "Like it was for me."

Reno reached for him, pulling him close, kissing him. "It _is_ good," he said. "Being with you is good."

Tentatively Rufus reached for Reno's cock – gave it a little stroke. "Is it – all right?"

"Yeah. Yeah – it's – ah – " Reno gasped, as Rufus gripped him more firmly. Rufus was new to being with another man, but he knew his own body, and he touched Reno in the ways he liked to touch himself, hoping that would be enough. Reno had never once been with a man who had shown the slightest concern for _his_ pleasure, and Rufus' inexpert caresses moved him more than anything he'd ever experienced before. He closed his eyes as he came, whispering Rufus' name, and afterwards, as he held Rufus close against him, he tried to tell himself that he was being stupid – that Rufus was just another trick – that he wasn't already dreading the moment Rufus left him alone.

"You don't believe me," Rufus said, as Reno got out of bed and poured water from the ewer into the bowl on the washstand. "But I will find a way to get you out of here." Reno passed Rufus a washcloth to clean himself up, with a little smile.

"Sorry – water's freezin'," Reno said, handing Rufus a threadbare towel. When Rufus had finished, Reno rinsed the cloth and washed himself quickly. Rufus watched him, and desire stirred again, but he refused to be distracted by it. How could he make Reno understand that he was serious? He tried again, as Reno got back into bed, pulling the thin blankets over them both, shivering in the cold air.

"I'm sixteen now," Rufus said. "I'll have access to some of my mother's fortune by way of an entailment – I could rent rooms somewhere –"

Reno felt something he thought he'd schooled himself never to feel – a faint stirring of hope. "Shh," he said, lying down beside Rufus, closing his eyes. "We can talk about all that next time."

"Yes – next time." Rufus smiled. "You know, I've never met anyone else who feels like this – like we do."

"Most likely _have_," Reno said. "Not as if they'd talk about it."

"I didn't even know what it was, for a long time," Rufus told him. "My father sometimes spoke about 'the sin of the cities of the plain' – but until this case in the papers, I didn't really know what he meant."

"Yeah – well Wilde's a fool – and the Marquis' son, too," Reno said. "Anyone who's not soft in the 'ead knows you do anythin' to keep a case like that outta court. Wilde's goin' to prison, if I know anythin' about anythin'."

"You read the papers?" Rufus asked, trying hard not to sound surprised.

"I know what's goin' on," Reno replied. "'Ave to, in this game. Some of them boys the defence wanted to testify the first time, they worked not more'n three streets from this house. The law's tight – an' this is against the law."

"Well I'm not giving you up!" Rufus declared ardently. "I used to be so ashamed, when I first realised that I didn't like girls. But not any more. This isn't wrong. I know it isn't."

Reno opened his eyes and looked at Rufus. "You really mean that?"

"Yes. It can't be wrong, can it? Who is harmed by it?"

Reno sighed, thinking of one of his clients – a youngish doctor called Guy Sanderson – who was forever going on about sin and redemption and the need for a pure soul. "No one, _I _don't think. But there's plenty of people think it's a harm in itself. _I_ can't see that society's goin' to collapse just come some folks prefer arse to cunt, but there's a lot of people think otherwise. You do 'ave to be careful, Rufus."

"I will be. But I won't stop seeing you. I don't care what anyone else thinks – not 'society', not my father, not anyone!"

Reno tried not to let his cynicism show in his smile. He was about to say something else when there was a soft knock on the door, and Madame Abeille's voice called, "Mr. Shinra, Sir? Your father's downstairs."

"Christ!" Rufus leapt from the bed and snatched up his scattered clothes, trying desperately to struggle into his trousers. Reno watched him for a moment, half smiling, then got out of bed, still completely naked, and helped Rufus into his shirt, waistcoat and jacket, fastening buttons and tying the cravat with expert fingers.

"There, Sir," Reno said, unflustered. "All done."

"I can't let him know I've been with you!" Rufus whispered.

"'Course not, Sir," Reno agreed. "I know how it is. _She_ won't say anything – most likely tell 'im you've been with Lucy."

"But – won't Lucy say anything?"

"No – she'll play along. Won't be the first time. You might give her a tip, as you leave."

"Oh – yes. Of course." Rufus found himself blushing. "And you, Reno – how much -?"

"I thought you sorted all that with her downstairs last night? When she gives me the nod like that, that's what it usually means."

"Oh – yes. My father probably did. But – this morning –"

Reno shook his head. "Let's keep that between us, all right? That was – my pleasure. And I ain't never said that before an' meant it."

"I'll come back – as soon as I can."

"Then I'll see you, Rufus." Something in Reno's expression betrayed his doubt. Rufus said, "No – I _will_! I wasn't lying – I want to be with you."

"I know. I know you do. I wish – I wish it was easier."

Rufus caught Reno's hand, and pulled him into an abrupt embrace, kissing him hard and rather inaccurately on the side of his mouth. Reno only smiled, and kissed him in return, once, softly. "Go on," he said, reaching past Rufus to open the door.

Madame Abeille stood in the corridor. She hardly glanced at Reno, who was still naked, but smiled at Rufus. "Good morning, Sir," she said with exaggerated cheer. "I hope everything was satisfactory?"

"Uh – yes. Thank you."

"I've told your father you were with Lucy. I hope that was the right thing to do?"

"Yes."

"Lucy's ready to say goodbye. She'll make a show of it, never fear. I hope we'll be seeing you again in the future, Sir?"

"Yes," said Rufus. "Yes, certainly."

"We'll look forward to it. If you'll follow me?"

Rufus looked back over his shoulder at Reno, who gave him a smile that looked somehow fragile.

Madame Abeille escorted Rufus down the two flights of stairs to the parlour, where Rose, neatly dressed and looking almost respectable, was pouring tea for Frederick Shinra.

As Rufus entered the room Lucy appeared behind him, in a charming state of semi-deshabille that somehow managed to make her look both provocative and innocent.

Frederick looked up at his son and the pretty girl behind him, and nodded his approval. "Happy Birthday, Rufus! I trust you enjoyed yourself?"

"Yes, thank you."

Lucy giggled and said, "Oh, Sir, I am glad."

Rufus turned to her and pressed a half sovereign into her hand without meeting her eyes. "You're a good girl, Lucy," he said. "Thank you."

Lucy simpered convincingly, her smile never wavering even when Frederick Shinra said loudly, "Oh yes – little Lucy's a good girl! Like father, like son, eh, Rufus?"

Rufus felt suddenly sick – at the thought of his father and this girl, who was his own age at most – at the idea that, if he had agreed to go with one of these women it might well have been someone his father had slept with before him – but mainly at the realisation that Reno probably entertained men like this – men his father's age. He couldn't bear the idea of their lecherous fingers touching that pale skin. For one horrible moment Rufus thought he was actually going to vomit. He looked away from his father, trying to breathe deeply, feeling suffocated.

Frederick noticed nothing amiss. He finished his tea and stood, smiling benevolently at the three women in the room, before turning to Rufus with the satisfied air of a parent who had done the best for his child.

"Well, well. Good. Come along, son. I have an important meeting at ten."

Rufus followed his father, without another word. As the door of _The Hive_ closed behind him, he discovered that the shame he'd thought he'd lost in Reno's arms had only retreated after all, and was waiting for him in the harsh daylight of the London streets.


	3. Reflections

**Thank you Licoriceallsorts for your kind reviews. **

**AN: In this chapter Reno is modelling for photographic versions of Henry Wallis' painting 'The Death of Chatterton'. A real photograph of this painting was the subject of one of the first cases of the attempted application of copyright law to photography, although, in that version, the models kept their clothes on! **

**It seems that many Victorian photographers gave themselves well known names such as Shakespeare or Horatio Nelson to win trade. **

**Reflections**

Madame Abeille made her way back up to Reno's attic room, pushing open the door without bothering to knock this time. "Well?" she demanded.

Reno was lying on the bed under the blankets, still naked. He opened one eye. "Well what?"

"The Shinra boy. Did he have a good birthday?"

"Oh – was it his birthday? He didn't say."

"Yes. He was enjoying himself this morning, by the sounds of things. Did he pay you for that?"

Reno closed his eye again. "He offered."

"What – you didn't take his money? Well – you missed a trick there. He may be new money, but there's plenty of it. It's his kind we need."

"He's queer, but he don't want to be," Reno said, sitting up and wrapping his arms around his knees. "Ten to one he won't come back at all, and if 'e does, fifty-fifty whether he'll see me, or go to Lucy to prove to 'imself that he ain't. No harm in bein' nice – bait the hook a little. Weren't exactly much of a hardship."

"Well – you usually know how to keep them coming back – I'll give you that, Reno. But I don't mind whether he sees you or Lu, as long as he does come back. He's one client I want to make sure of. Sir Fredrick's always been an excellent customer and when he dies Rufus will be worth hundreds of thousands, I've heard."

"No! Fuck me sideways! I mean – you can tell 'e's a toff, but – that much?"

"Let's hope you've done enough to tempt him back, eh, Reno?"

"Hope so," Reno said, convincing Madame Abeille, and almost himself, that he was thinking about the money. No point thinking about anything else. Ten to one on Rufus coming back was most likely shortening the odds anyway. Reno knew better than most not to believe anything anyone said between the sheets.

Madame Abeille turned to leave, the yellow silk of her day dress swishing on the wooden floor. "Oh – by the way," she said, "Mr. Quill's servant brought a message. He wants to see you tonight instead of tomorrow, so you'll need to get back from that studio appointment by six."

Reno turned his face to the wall, but not before Madame Abeille caught the expression of distaste that he found he couldn't hide.

"Now, Reno," she chided, "None of that. Not everyone can be as pretty as the Shinra boy. Quill's regular, and pays well, and he knows what's allowed and what's not."

"Yeah, yeah. But that's all day today then. I don't want no one tomorrow."

"All right. Unless the Shinra boy comes back."

"Yes. Unless that."

And then Sanderson on Wednesday, and Freeman again on Thursday, and the one-offs, and the tourists, and the one-offs who were on the verge of becoming regulars. Usually Reno was adept at putting the future out of his mind, but this morning, for some reason, the usual trick wasn't working. He listened to Madame Abeille's retreating footsteps – loud on the wooden stairs of the second floor, then soft thuds on the carpet of the first – and closed his eyes. He wasn't due at the studio until one – he ought to sleep. No point thinking about Rufus Shinra. What had he said? _You don't believe me - but I will find a way to get you out of here._ Lord – and he'd actually meant it, too! But then his dad had shown up, and he'd been off like a scared rabbit. _Course _he had. Stupid to expect anything else.

:::

Once Frederick Shinra had departed for the ten o'clock appointment at his club, Rufus leaned back against the interior of the closed carriage and shut his eyes. What had he done? Giving in to that boy – doing those things – _insisting_ on having those things done to him – everything that had happened in _The Hive_ already seemed like the actions of a stranger. He was – what did the papers call it? An _invert_. Something to be ridiculed and despised – something so heinous it was actually against the law. How had it seemed so right? The boy had persuaded him – had corrupted him. It wasn't Rufus' fault – it was all that boy's doing – dressing as a girl to confuse him, to lure him in – and then pretending he thought he should go to Lucy – waiting to kiss him - so _subtle_! That damned boy!

Reno.

Rufus felt tears threaten but blinked them away. He'd learnt by the age of eight, on his first night at school, that boys did not cry. That was one lesson he'd taken to heart. Tears were for women, and whatever else he may be, Rufus wasn't one of those! Unfortunately, he had always been blessed – or cursed – with a strong intellect, and he knew perfectly well that attempting to blame Reno for what had happened was only lying to himself. He was what he was, as Reno would doubtless say, and there was nothing to be done about it. But actually to indulge in the sin – that was something else. He knew that it must never happen again – everything in his upbringing had taught him that much. He'd been weak, and for a man to be weak was the very worst of offences. Now he would have to be strong – keep away from that house – keep his deviant desires under control. He would do his duty as his father's heir – finish his education – go up to Cambridge as his father wished him to do, and then learn the business. Perhaps his desires would die as he grew up – old people like his father didn't feel things strongly, did they? Perhaps, in time, he'd come to appreciate women. If Reno hadn't come in at that moment, perhaps things might have worked out with Lucy? Should he go back and try?

No. The thought of going back to that place was unimaginable. Or, at least, the thought of going back and seeing anyone other than Reno was unimaginable. Seeing Reno he could _imagine_ only too well. What was Reno doing now? Was he still in bed? Was he sleeping? Would he be thinking about Rufus, or was he only concerned with the next client? Did he do those things with every other man who asked him? He'd said not, but was it possible to trust the word of a whore? Of course not. Reno probably looked at him and saw nothing but his father's money.

_We can talk about all that next time,_ Reno had said. Was that a clever trick to get Rufus to go back? Or simply a diversionary tactic from someone who knew better than Rufus how the world worked, and who knew that he was unlikely to return?

Best not to think about him at all. Don't think about his face – those kisses – the way it felt –

Rufus was still trying not to think about Reno when the carriage drove under the arched entrance to the mews at his father's town residence. As Rufus stepped down from the carriage, he noticed a long red hair on the sleeve of his jacket – looked away hastily.

Alone in his bedroom, Rufus looked again, and saw that it was still there. Detaching it from the fabric carefully, Rufus held it up to the light – a bright copper strand, softly gleaming and beautiful.

:::

Reno was experiencing severe pins and needles in his right arm, which he had been told to hold at a strange angle draped over the edge of the bed. His hand was so numb he could barely feel the small but heavy glass bottle he had been clutching for the last twenty minutes.

"No, no, no," the grandiosely and falsely named 'Photographer to the Aristocracy' Horatio Wellington grumbled. "Now you're frowning. I said _serene_. Come on – get up. Come here."

Reno did as he was told, relieved to be able to drop the bottle onto the narrow bed. He shook his numb arm vigorously, massaging his wrist. This job was a welcome change in that it didn't seem to involve having anyone fuck him – at least not yet, although he wasn't holding his breath – but it was physically tiring and boring as hell.

Reno wandered over to Mr. Wellington who stood by his camera, holding a large picture in a frame.

"Look," he said, presenting the picture to Reno, "it might help if you study this for a while. This is the picture we're trying to recreate. This print has been hand-coloured, but I've seen the original, and his hair is as red as yours. That's why I chose you. But you have to get the pose right, you see?"

"Is 'e supposed to be dead?" Reno asked, looking at the picture. He had to admit, Wellington had done a good job copying the bed and the clothes, although the satin breeches he was wearing were tan, whereas the ones in the print had been painted blue. His were rather too big for him, but he'd tucked the shirt in and he reckoned the effect was similar to the clothes worn by the young man in the image.

"Yes. He's taken poison."

"He looks 'appy enough about it!"

"He's transcended the cares of this mortal life."

"Well good for 'im. That arm's not right though. If he was dead, it wouldn't be at that angle. Look."

Thrusting the picture back into Wellington's arms Reno lay down on the bed and flung his arm over the edge again, letting his muscles relax completely. "See?" he said, letting his head fall back in the same direction, looking at Wellington upside-down. "It'd hang down – not curve like that."

"It's an aesthetic choice," Wellington sighed, "To do with the composition of the painting."

"Oh – right. So – it's not meant to be realistic?"

"No. It's meant to be artistic."

"And never the twain," observed Reno, with a grin. "Although he's got the light good, ain't 'e?"

"I think so, yes. If you can get the position exactly right, I'll only need to take two or three pictures. All you have to do is stay completely still – but the process is almost instantaneous these days. I suppose you can hold a pose?"

"Yes, I reckon."

"Good. Are you ready?"

"Who was he? In the picture?"

"A poet called Chatterton. He was only seventeen when he died."

"I'm seventeen."

"You're perfect. Now – can we get on with it?"

Reno lay on the bed again, arranging himself into the exact pose of the original painting. Wellington knelt beside him and fussed with his hair, tucking the longest sections under Reno's head and positioning the rest around his face until he was satisfied with the effect. Reno kept his eyes closed, trying to decide whether Wellington was merely a perfectionist, or whether all this touching was deliberate. When the photographer moved to rearrange his shirt, running his hands unnecessarily over Reno's chest, he had his answer.

Wellington moved back to his camera and said, "All right – serene, remember. You saw that smile, in the picture – do that."

Acting was a necessary part of Reno's job, and he assumed an expression he thought approximated to the painting, but Wellington tutted. "No, no. You look cynical. _Transcending mortal cares_, I said. Think about something that makes you happy."

Reno thought, and found that he was thinking of Rufus.

"That's it! Hold it like that – don't move."

Reno obeyed, focussing on memories of the morning. The little studio was very quiet – the photographer's careful breathing the only sound.

"All right – that's it. You can move now," Wellington said.

Reno opened his eyes. "That's it?" It couldn't be much past two. He'd be able to spend the afternoon doing as he liked – have a pint or three – chat with Lucy and Esme - forget about the evening's appointment until it happened.

"That's those done," Wellington said, looking at Reno with undisguised appreciation. "They'll be best sellers. Now then – if you'll take off those clothes, we'll do the second version."

Reno only looked at him. "This is what you agreed with her?"

"Yes."

"You're going to sell copies of these ones too?"

"Don't worry – it's nothing to be ashamed of. You should visit the National Gallery sometime – nothing but paintings of nudes. This is art, boy! Photography is the new painting. You'll be doing nothing worse than lying in the same pose as before."

"And then I can go?"

"Of course. Like I told the Madam – I'm a happily married man. This is business, that's all."

Reno remembered Wellington's hands on him, but said nothing. He'd met plenty of happily married men like this before. He believed that Wellington would do nothing but look, but he still felt unusually apprehensive. Pictures were permanent – pictures were evidence. Every other encounter he'd ever had existed only in memory now – easily deniable. A photograph was proof-positive. Reno had a keen instinct for danger, and this new technology was risky. But a job was a job. Rufus wouldn't come back, and even if he did he could never be more than a client – albeit the only client Reno would be happy to see.

"What's keeping you?" Wellington asked. "Not shy are you?"

Reno scoffed at that. "Hardly. Just ain't never 'ad a photograph took before today – clothed or not."

"Well – tell you what – do a good job, and I'll take you a cabinet picture, all nice and respectable. You can give one to your mother and your girl – make them happy."

Reno was about to refuse on the grounds that he had neither mother nor girl, when he thought of Rufus. If Rufus did come back, would he want a photograph of Reno? "If only I 'ad one of _him_," Reno thought.

"All right then," Reno said, turning away from Wellington and starting to undress, shivering a little in the cold air.

:::

Rufus lay on his bed holding his left hand up so that the light from the window caught the flat surface of the garnet ring he wore on his middle finger. He'd inherited all his mother's jewellery when she'd died except for those pieces that his father had bought her, and in the last few days of her final illness she had given him the keys of her jewellery case. When he'd protested – unwilling to believe, despite her skeletal appearance, that she was really going to die – she'd given him a painful smile. "Some of the rings were my father's," she'd said. "You can wear those, and think of me. The rest – keep for your wife. I like to think of you married, and happy, with a family of your own. When you have a child, you'll understand how much I love you, Rufus."

He'd never worn any of the rings before, although he sometimes looked at them and thought about his mother. One sapphire ring reminded him of the colour of her eyes, and there was a small diamond band he remembered her always wearing. The ring Rufus wore now was not especially valuable – it was an antique Italian poison ring, with a small compartment hidden under a hinged lid beneath the stone, in which, so the story went, assassins could conceal their deadly powders. The gold was a little worn, and the stone, although well cut, not expensive, but the compartment now contained a single, long strand of red hair, almost the colour of the garnet that concealed it.

"How stupid!" Rufus exclaimed aloud. He wasn't going to see Reno again, so the sentimental gesture was pointless. Rufus pulled the ring off his finger and threw it across the room, flinging himself back on the bed, his arm over his eyes. God he hated being in town! In the country he could at least go riding, or spend the rest of the day shooting birds out of the air until he felt better. He was a damned fine shot – everyone said so – best in the county – and he could ride any horse ever born. He knew he'd out-classed both Charles Cecil and Clarence Wallis during every hunt last season, even though they were both two years older than he was.

Would Reno be impressed by that? Irish people were supposed to be good with horses weren't they? Rufus was sure he'd heard his father say so during some discussion about the building of a new railway line somewhere in America. Perhaps he could somehow persuade his father, or Mr. Veld the steward, to take on Reno as a stable hand? But then there would be hardly any opportunities to meet him, and they would be separated all term time and during the winter season. No, that wouldn't work.

His father, for all his faults of temper and etiquette, had always been generous with his fortune. Rufus wondered how much it would cost to rent rooms for Reno, here in town at first, and later in Cambridge. If he could manage it out of his allowance they could see each other all the time. His father would never know – he never asked Rufus how he spent his pocket money. Most importantly, Reno would be safe and he would never have to do those things with anyone else again. That would be a much better solution.

Except – Rufus wasn't going to see Reno again, was he? So all these plans and calculations were a waste of time.

Leaping up from the bed Rufus rang the bell for his father's elderly valet, Palmer. He heard the man's slow footsteps ascending the stairs and approaching along the corridor. He couldn't understand why his father retained a foolish, fat servant like Palmer, but the Old Man seemed fond of him, for some reason. Rufus picked up the garnet ring from the floor as Palmer's ponderous knock sounded dully against the door. He had intended to return the ring to its box on his dressing table, but it seemed quicker just to slip it back onto his finger instead.

"Come in!" he called, before Palmer could knock again.

Palmer opened the door and took a step into the room, smiling blandly. "Sir?"

"Fetch my coat and hat, Palmer. I'm going out. I won't need the carriage – I'll walk, and get a cab back."

"Certainly, Sir. May I tell your father when to expect your return?"

"I'm not sure. I may be quite late. Tell him not to wait up for me."

"Yes, Sir. And may I tell him where you are going?"

"Out," Rufus replied, in a tone that Palmer had learned long ago not to question.

:::

Reno shook creases out of the green silk dress he wore in his guise as Nancy, and regarded it without enthusiasm. He didn't mind the play-acting – it was necessary to his job and to help maintain the fiction that all Madame Abeille's girls at _The Hive_ really were girls – but his six o'clock appointment was the client he liked least. Mr. Quill, as he called himself - although heaven knew what his real name might be - was a lecherous old goat who always wanted to play out exactly the same scenario, and Reno was frankly sick of it. Still, he told himself, pulling on the dress while kicking his own clothes under the bed and lacing the bodice with swift, practised movements, at least Quill was regular, as Madame Abeille had pointed out this morning, and he paid well.

"Dunno what _you're_ lookin' so glum about," Reno said to his reflection in the dark windowpanes. "You had half a day with Esme in the Red Lion, an' you got all day off tomorrow!" He ran his fingers through his hair, arranging it around his face. His reflection, illuminated only by the soft light of a single candle, really did look convincingly feminine. "All day off tomorrow," he repeated under his breath, "Unless Rufus comes back. But Rufus won't come back. Don't be a fool, Reno." He glanced at the door, and then away. It must be nearly six by now. Well, that was all right. He was ready.


	4. Other Worlds

**Sorry it's been so long, and thank you for the kind favourites, follows and reviews. In this chapter Reno discovers text-speak years before its time! **

**Four - Other Worlds**

Rufus walked for a good mile away from his father's house before getting into a hansome cab in the safely anonymous environs of Victoria Station. The cabbie didn't so much as raise an eyebrow when Rufus gave directions to The Hive, being well used to driving fashionable, wealthy young men eastwards in pursuit of pleasures of various kinds.

He was surprised, however, when, upon reaching the destination, his passenger showed no desire to leave the cab, only giving him orders to pull up outside the house, and wait.

"My time, Sir…"

"Of course," Rufus replied, impatient. "I'll pay you accordingly. I simply wish to wait here for a while."

"Very good, Sir," said the cabbie, speculating briefly on his passenger's behaviour. Was he one of those detectives on a case from New Scotland Yard? No, too young, and much too well dressed. An uncommonly virtuous fellow, tempted by sin, but still resisting? Possibly, although there was a determination and a cool authority in the young man that didn't suggest he'd be one to dillydally. Well – not really the cabbie's business, in any case. So long as the young gentleman paid up.

:::

As soon as Quill had departed, Reno stripped off the dress angrily, and kicked it across the room. He fished the small green glass bottle of tincture of arnica from under the bed, and when he'd finished washing, he applied the healing liquid to the washcloth, and dabbed it onto his sore backside. He knew, from nearly two years' experience of Quill and his riding crop, that the bruises would mostly be gone by the morning – Quill's arm was weak, which was just as well given how long the whole process sometimes took. But Reno resented the fact that he had to put up with bruises at all when physically he knew he could kill Quill so easily that he was almost afraid to imagine it.

Of all his clients, Quill was the only one who provoked Reno to entertain violent fantasies – but then, he was the only one who used violence. Hidden under Reno's mattress was a long, shallow wooden box containing an ivory-handled dagger he'd had the good fortune to find one night in an alley near the Black Swan – a public house notorious for brawls – and a wooden baton stolen from one of Lucy's clients who had turned out to be a copper. Madame Abeille had come to a satisfactory arrangement with him – it always helped to have a rozzer or two on side. Reno tended to carry the baton with him when he went out, hidden inside his jacket, or in a deep pocket Esme had helped him sew into his dress. So far his hard fists had always been enough to deter any unwanted admirers, but he felt better for knowing the weapon was accessible if he needed it.

Now, thinking of Quill, Reno's hands clenched, as he imagined what it would feel like to grab him by that scrawny throat and beat the bastard to within an inch of his life. He dressed in his own clothes, forcing himself to calm down.

"'E's gone now," he muttered aloud. "An' good riddance. Come on, Reno. All day off tomorrow, and Esme might be free to go out now. Nothin' to do tomorrow – unless Rufus… But don't go thinkin' about that. Rufus ain't comin' back."

:::

Rufus looked at his pocket watch, the pearl face gleaming softly in the flickering light of a gas lamp on the street outside. An hour gone already, and the only people he'd seen leaving The Hive had been the girl called Lucy on the arm of a moustachioed soldier, followed, some time later, by a thin, hard-faced, elderly man in a top hat and shabby frockcoat at least a decade out of fashion.

_What am I doing here?_ Rufus wondered. _I must be insane._ _How Reno would laugh if he knew! _

Deciding that his vigil was futile and foolish, Rufus was about to order the cabbie to take him back to the West End when two dandified young men entered the building, and, as they vanished inside, a young couple came out. Rufus' breath caught painfully as he recognised Reno, dressed in ordinary male clothing, with a petite, dark-haired girl on his arm. Reno pushed back his cap, and said something to the girl, who laughed and put a gloved hand to her fashionable blue velvet hat. His heart beating hard, Rufus ducked back into the shadowy interior of the cab as the pair passed within two yards of him.

"…Was only three shillings an' sixpence," the girl said. "Do you like it?"

To Rufus' horror they paused on the pavement next to his cab, waiting to cross while a hansome cab and a gig attempted to pass each other in the narrow road.

"You look a picture, Es," Reno replied. "Just like always."

"Get on with you! I don't!"

"Fishin' for compliments again? You caught all you're gonna get from me!"

"Aw – an' it was only a tiddler, too!" the girl replied pertly, and there was no mistaking the suggestive tone in her voice.

"Oi! My 'compliment' is _not_ a tiddler, thank you very much!"

"Course it ain't," the girl laughed. "You must 'ave the full complement, else you wouldn't make more'n the rest of us put together. C'mon Flash – you can buy me a drink before the show." Their footsteps faded as they crossed the street, and Rufus heard the girl add, "_You_ can't be short of the readies - not after…" before the rest of her sentence was lost among the sound of hooves on cobbles, the rumble of cab wheels, and the chatter of passing pedestrians.

Not after _what_? Rufus wondered, feeling bitter and idiotic. _After taking that stupid Toff for what you could get? After being paid by who ever the hell else has fucked you since this morning?_

Furious with Reno, but mostly with himself for having fallen for his act, Rufus banged on the roof of the cab and called, "Knightsbridge. Immediately."

_Blimey!_ The cabbie thought, _drive all the way out here only to hang around and go back again! Takes all sorts!_ Still, a fare was a fare, so he only touched his cap and replied, "Right you are, guv'nor!" prompting his obedient horse into motion with a gentle flick of the reins.

Rufus watched the progression of the streets from the higgledy-piggledy hotchpotch of ramshackle old and new buildings leaning at odd angles together in the poorest parts of the East End to the smarter terraces approaching the city, followed by the large town houses in their neat rows and squares and circuses as he reached more familiar territory near his father's London home.

_I don't belong there,_ he thought, pushing his hair out of his eyes and telling himself he was too good for that shabby underworld in any event. _I don't know what father was thinking of! That room of Reno's – bare floors, that ancient bed…_ But all he could think of was what they'd done on that bed – how good it had felt – how Reno had looked at him – the way they'd kissed.

_How can he lie so well?_ Rufus wondered. _How can a kiss lie? _

Did Reno kiss that girl – Es – like that? He'd claimed not to be one of the boys who only did it for the money – but then he would most likely have said whatever he thought Rufus wanted to hear. And he hadn't wanted paying in the morning – but that was probably a trick to win Rufus' trust and to make sure he came back.

Es. What kind of a name was that? _Esmeralda?_ Rufus thought, thinking of Victor Hugo. But no – that was surely too outlandish for a girl from the poorest streets in London. _Estella_, like the girl in Dickens? She was certainly pretty, but shockingly vulgar in the manner of her speech. But then she was a whore, just like Reno. That kind of low humour probably entertained such people.

_I suppose the lower classes don't really have a proper sense of what's right and what's wrong_, Rufus told himself. _Father's right – they're not much better than animals. How could I have been stupid enough to believe Reno capable of any finer feelings? To think that I talked to him about love! He must have been rolling his eyes when I wasn't looking. I bet he'll tell that _Es_ all about it_ _when they go to their cheap show, and they'll have a good laugh… Well – he can laugh all he likes – I won't be going back there. Wild horses couldn't drag me back! _

:::

Esme slipped her arm through Reno's as they made their way back from the music hall. "Reckon that was as good as anythin' up the West End," she sighed. "That girl on the trampoline! Must be like flyin' almost. An' the little dog with the harlequin suit! And the jugglers… It's like another world, ain't it? Just for a bit. I liked that song from America – _after the ball is over_... about broken hearts an' that."

Reno smiled. "Never knew you was so sentimental, Es!"

"No – but – it was nice though. Romantic."

"Romantic… Huh. I like the one about the geezer who wants to be a barrow boy. _Gerroff me barrer!_ And the bit about _where the ripe bananas grow_ –"

Esme grinned and sang, "They are only a dozen a shilling…"

"That is how I earn my living," Reno continued, and they both finished with an exuberant, "I ought to have been a barrow boy years ago – gerroff me barrer! Yes I ought to have been a barrow boy years ago!"

An old man shouted at them to "keep the bloody noise down and lay off the liquor!"

"Ah shut yer trap and 'ave some bleedin' fun!" Esme yelled.

"How much did you drink?" Reno chuckled.

"Not much. Same as you. An' you only like that song 'cause of the _ripe bananas_!"

"Jesus – I'm about sick of the ripe ones!"

"Oh, yeah, and _I_ know why! Luce told me about your pretty Toff. Said he was as 'andsome as you could ever wish to see. You take care, Reno. You'll be spoilt for anyone else, an' your poor heart'll be broken."

Reno sighed. "I reckon you're right, there."

Esme looked up at him, startled. "I was only jokin'! Since when did you get starry-eyed over a customer?"

"Since I met him. No lie, Es, I could 'ardly face Quill tonight. Felt like doin' him in, after Rufus. Rufus was - different. Ain't never been like that before."

"Rufus, Rufus – give me an answer do!" Esme sang, in a teasing lilt, fluttering her eyelashes. "I'm 'alf crazy, all for the love of –"

"Stop it!" Reno said, rather sharply. "It ain't funny. He ain't answerin' nothin' 'cause he ain't comin' back – an' if he does he'll go and see Lucy and I don't think I could stand that."

Esme stopped dead and stared at Reno. "You think 'e'll see Luce?"

"Most likely. If he even comes back."

"Why?"

"'Cause he don't want this." He gestured towards himself. "He don't want to be like me – who would if they 'ad the choice? He'll want to fool himself he likes girls."

Esme patted Reno's arm as they resumed walking. After a few moments she said, "You really mind that he might go to Lucy. You really like him."

"Yeah. And I know it's stupid – so don't even –"

"Oh Reno! It ain't stupid to fall in love!"

"Love! I never said nothin' about that!"

"You didn't have to say nothin'. It's obvious."

"Huh. Maybe I am half crazy. But – like I said – he ain't comin' back."

Esme adjusted her hat, and glanced sideways at Reno. "Quill's the old one with the ridin' crop ain't he?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"Ugh. I got one as likes that game. And a couple of old 'uns too. This one geezer used to take so long that one time I swear I fell asleep!"

Reno's smile was wan, but he made an effort not to spoil his friend's evening. "What did he do?"

"Don't think 'e noticed! When I woke up 'e was still goin'. I keep it dark in my room – saves on candles, an' I don't 'ave to look at the punters' ugly mugs."

"Wish I'd had a 'undred candles for Rufus," Reno said. "A whole room full! I could just – look at 'im, you know?"

"Wouldn't make much dough jus' lookin'," Esme replied. "Cheer up, Reno! 'E might come back. An' if 'e don't there'll be others. Not all yours are like Quill."

"No. Sanderson's all right to look at. But he's odd. All religious. Tells me I'm his 'one sin'. See – what I liked with Rufus was that there weren't nothin' _else_. No games, no dressin' up – just me an' 'im. Like you said about the show – it was like another world – just for a bit. But – when it's over, it makes the real world seem… Oh, I dunno."

"I know what you mean," Esme agreed, resting her head on Reno's shoulder. "Makes the real world a bit darker, after all them lime-lights. A bit – meaner."

"Yeah."

"But we're doin' all right though," Esme said, after a hundred yards of silence. "We got a roof over our 'eads, and time off, an' enough money of our own to go out now an' then. It ain't so bad."

"No, I know. It was worse before. An' even if Rufus never comes back, I'm gettin' out before I'm too old. I save money – I got it put away."

"You have? I never manage to save anything."

Reno smiled, affectionately. "Too many new hats," he said.

Esme stopped walking, and looked up at Reno earnestly. "If you do move on, will you take me with you?"

"I will, if I can," Reno said. "But you better start savin' too. With money, you can do anythin' – without it, you're caught. I know – I –"

"What?"

"It don't matter. It's past. But you're right, Es. We are doin' all right, ain't we? And I'm bein' stupid. Even Quill ain't so bad, really. I've 'ardly felt it all night – 'e's that weak."

"The seats in the _Empire_ are comfy, for that," Esme agreed.

"And that little dog was a right laugh!" Reno said. "Never thought a dog that small could jump that high!"

Esme laughed, and they set off for home, Reno whistling the tune of "All me Life I Wanted to be a Barrow Boy" in a convincingly cheerful fashion.

:::

Rufus gave his hat and coat to Palmer who appeared at the door in lieu of the butler.

"Beg your pardon, Sir," Palmer said. "I was expecting the Master. I told Mr. Reeve I'd answer the door."

"What does it matter who answers the door?" Rufus growled.

"I was expecting you later, you see, Sir," Palmer explained.

"Well, as you can see, I'm back now."

"Very good, Sir. Have you dined, or shall I have something sent to your room?"

"No, I'm not hungry! Just –" Rufus bit back his anger, which would only get reported to his father, and forced himself to be reasonable. "No thank you. I'm rather tired."

"Yes, Sir."

Alone in his room, Rufus locked the door, and sat on the end of the bed staring into space. _That's the end of that_, he told himself. _I don't have to think about him any more. It was a stupid indiscretion, and it's a good thing I did find out the truth before I went back there and made a complete fool of myself. _

Flinging himself back on the bed, Rufus closed his eyes, frowning. Reno would be sorry that he'd lost such a rich customer, but he'd still have a good old laugh about Rufus with his doxy. They were probably making their crude jokes and laughing about him at this very moment, if they weren't too busy watching their tawdry show, which he could only guess would be some kind of low circus or music hall.

Jumping up from the bed, Rufus went to his desk and found a blank sheet of writing paper and the gold fountain pen his father had given him for his birthday – along with the visit to that doubtless pox-ridden house of shame.

_I'll let him know_, thought Rufus, writing rapidly_. I'll tell him that I'm wise to his game – that I know all about his girl and his lies. See how much he laughs then, when he knows the game's up and The Hive won't be making any more money out of me! _

Ten minutes later Rufus slammed the blotter down onto the finished letter, sealed it into the envelope and was about to ring to have it taken to the post when he realised that, of course, he couldn't send a letter addressed to a notorious brothel via one of the servants. Thrusting the letter into his waistcoat pocket, Rufus headed out again to find a post box at some distance from his father's house.

:::

Reno woke to the blissful realisation that, having endured Quill's visit on the previous evening, he now had the whole day free. It was already past eleven, and he was at perfect liberty to lie alone in bed for as long as he liked.

_Es is right_, he thought, stretching luxuriously, _this life ain't so bad. All them clerks up in the city, been at work for hours and don't make what I do. Who needs Rufus Shinra? No – I ain't even gonna think about him. He don't mean nothin' to me. Not that he wasn't 'andsome, 'cause I'd be lying if I said he weren't – never saw anyone with eyes that blue. But he's just another punter in the end, even if he was the best… No – don't think about that…_

Five minutes later, having discovered that not thinking about Rufus was impossible for him at present, Reno gave in to temptation and brought himself to an intense orgasm imagining that his own hand on his cock was Rufus'. Afterwards he lay still, eyes closed, reflecting that it had been a very long time since he'd had the slightest desire to touch himself for his own pleasure. It was good to enjoy being in his own body again. Normally, after the likes of Quill and Freeman, he wanted to forget himself - in drink or a show, a laugh with the girls, or the oblivion of sleep. Sleep sounded good, now…

Reno woke sometime after noon to a soft knock at his door. Esme's voice called, "Reno! There's two letters come for you!"

Rolling sideways, Reno got out of bed and pulled on his trousers as a courtesy to Esme. Opening the door, he stared at the two envelopes she held out to him. "Can't be for me," he said. "I don't get letters."

"You 'ave today!" she said cheerfully. "Both addressed to Reno, too, not Nancy."

Reno took the letters and stood staring down at them. He remembered his mother's lessons, years ago, and thought he recognised an "R for Ren".

"Ain't you goin' to open them?" Esme asked, unburdened by any sense of respecting Reno's privacy. Reno shrugged. "No use. I can't read nothin' much more'n my name an' a few words."

Esme looked at him, astonished. "_You_ can't? But you're always talking about what's in the papers!"

"I listen when Madame A. reads 'em out. I can make out some of the names. An' people talk in the pub – on the street. I pick up what's goin' on. But a whole letter – I can't read that."

"I'll help you if you like," Esme said. "I went to school in the village until I was ten. I can read a bit."

"My Ma taught me my letters and numbers," Reno said, rather defensively. "It's not like I don't know nothin'. I know the ABC all right. But I was only comin' up to six when we left Ireland, an' after that… My sisters could read."

"I never knew you 'ad sisters," Esme said.

"Two. Mary and Aine. They died."

"I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Well."

"Open the letters, Reno. I'll read 'em if I can."

"All right. Come in."

Esme and Reno sat side by side on Reno's bed as Reno opened the larger of the two envelopes. Inside was a card, and two identical photographs of Reno wearing a respectable shirt and jacket the photographer had found for him, looking very serious, in three-quarter profile, his hair still a little wild from Wellington's arrangement of it for the job.

"Ooh!" Esme exclaimed. "These are lovely, Reno. Real cabinet portraits. You look so…"

"So – what?" asked Reno, studying the pictures. He'd never owned a good-quality looking glass in his life, and he regarded his own face cautiously. "Is that what I really look like?"

"Yes. I'd say 'andsome, but it's more like – I don't know – _beautiful_."

"Give over, Es!"

"No – really. Give one of these to Rufus Shinra, and 'e'll keep comin' back to see the original, no word of a lie."

"Do you think so?"

"Yes. This card don't say anythin' important – only 'with complaints from the studio of Mr. Horatio Wellington'.

"Compliments?" suggested Reno.

"Oh – yeah. That makes more sense."

"Well – that Wellington kept his word anyhow," Reno said. "An' if Rufus ever does come back…"

"Open the other one," Esme told him.

Reno did as she instructed and she peered at it over his shoulder, saying, "It's all handwritin'. That's harder than a printed card. All them loops and swirls." Reno's eyes fixed on the letter R at the bottom, and, in spite of his best efforts, his hand shook. "It's from him, ain't it? Rufus?"

"I think so," replied Esme, frowning as she tried to make out the writing. "Looks like 'e was in a hurry. Oh – Reno…"

Reno looked at her face. "What?" he demanded. "Somethin' bad. He ain't comin' back is he? What does he say?"

Esme looked at him, her pretty face miserable. "He ain't comin' back. He thinks you lied to him."

"I never!" Reno jumped to his feet in agitation, pacing between the bed and the window. "I never said nothin' but what was true! What does he mean? What does he say?"

"He says that – that he saw you with a 'cheap doxy' in the street. He says -"

"Read it Es – for god's sake! Read it all."

"_Having some business in this part of town last night, I happened to pass you in the street with a cheap doxy on your arm – no doubt one of the girls from your house_. What? Last night? Is 'e callin' _me_ a 'cheap doxy'? Well, I like that! Bloody cheek! He ain't no gentleman in my book, an' I don't care how much dough his old man's got!"

"Read it."

"_I dare say you and your girl had a good laugh about me and the way you dec _- deceived_ me, but I know what your game is, and you won't be getting a penny out of me. Don't even think about asking me for money, as my father knows that I spent the night with Lucy, and I can assure you that if you seek to be – _what is that word? _Besmirch? _What does that mean?"

"Just finish it – please."

"All right, I'm doin' me best! _Besmirch my name I will not hesitate to expose the house and my sus - suspicions about the kinds of activity that take place within it. R." _ Esme looked up at Reno, wide-eyed. "What's it mean? He won't get the law on us, will he?"

"No. It's a warnin' not to try an' blackmail him. That's what he thinks of me. He thinks everythin' that happened was put on to get him interested and get his money. He thinks I lied about bein' like I am, and he thinks you're my girl. But this is bollocks. He weren't never in this part of town on business – he must've come to see me. He saw us together and he thought –" Reno shook his head. "But why? He was here – in that bed – just yesterday! Why did he think I was lying? Didn't he feel _nothin_' – after all he said?" Fighting hard to keep back the threatening tears that would only set the seal on his humiliation, Reno pretended to look out of the window, seeing nothing at all.

"Reno – 'e was just a punter. Let it go. If he won't set the law on us, then it don't matter!"

"It does matter! You don't know what it was like. I told you last night - it's never once been like that before! I can't let him go, thinkin' it was all a sham. Look, Es – thanks for reading it for me. I have to reply. Do you have any paper and something to write with?"

"I'll get some from Rose. She keeps a diary. But how are you goin' to write a letter when you don't know more'n ABC?"

"I'll manage. Words are made of them letters ain't they?" Reno looked suddenly unsure. He returned to the bed and sat heavily beside Esme. "It _is_ just the letters A to Z, ain't it? That's all you need?"

"Yes. Do you want me to help you?"

"No. Thanks, but no. Don't tell anyone about this, will you?"

"My lips are sealed. I'll get the paper."

When she'd gone Reno attempted to reason himself out of his violent emotions, with no success. No matter how often he told himself that Esme was right and he should forget Rufus, his whole body was telling him the opposite in the pounding of his heart; his trembling, helpless anger.

Esme brought a sheet of writing paper, a pencil and an envelope. She put them into Reno's hands, murmured, "Good luck," and went away quietly.

Reno knelt on the floor, placed the paper carefully on the little wooden table, and thought about what to say. Dear Rufus. Well – that couldn't be too difficult. Dear. d. Not that Rufus had written 'Dear Reno', but then he was worried about blackmail, so he hadn't used names or anything that could give him away. d. Reno remembered copying the letters his mother had written on a piece of slate for him when he was four or five. He attempted a d, and managed one that he thought was fairly creditable, although the pencil was much harder to control than he'd expected. Dear. So the next sound must be an 'uh'. What letter was that? Running through the alphabet aloud provided no perfect solution, but he guessed that the nearest sound was 'r'. dr. Did that say 'dear'? It would have to do. Now. 'Rufus'. That definitely started with capital R, because R was for Reno, and Rufus had signed R at the end of his letter. But why did R say "Ruh" and not "Ar"? Did that mean letters sometimes sounded different from their names? If so, how was he supposed to know what sounds the letters stood for? Hadn't there been something about 'A is for apple, B is for ball'?

"Sod this for a game of soldiers!" Reno exclaimed angrily, throwing down the pencil in exasperation. He ran through the alphabet again, but none of the letters made the sounds he needed. Then he had a brilliant idea. Numbers sounded like words, didn't they? 2 was a word, and so was 4. 0 meant 'nothing', 1 sounded the same as 'want', and 3 was 'free'. He could use those as well. He retrieved the pencil from under the bed where it had rolled, and chewed the end, thinking. At last he made a start, muttering, "I'll just 'ave to do my best and put what I reckon, or I'll be at it all bleedin' day! And I've still got to ask around to find where 'e lives, and tramp all the way up West to put it through his door. Maybe I should just leave it? But then he'll always think I was lying, and that it meant sod all, when really it meant -"

- _Everything_ whispered his mind.

"It meant _somethin_', anyway," was all Reno would admit aloud, even to the empty room.

:::

The following morning at breakfast one of the footmen brought Rufus a letter on the usual silver tray. "I believe this is for you, Sir," he said blandly.

Rufus looked up from toying with his scrambled eggs, saw the envelope, and had to force himself not to snatch it and flee to his room. The one word written on it was 'Rfis'. Affecting boredom in the face of the sudden onslaught of emotions that left him hot all over, his heart thumping wildly, Rufus took the letter and said, "Thank you. Probably a joke from one of the boys from school. Devereaux and Carlton are both in town." Using every ounce of his self-control he laid the letter beside his plate and finished eating, afraid that he would be sick with every mouthful. His father barely looked up as Rufus pushed back his chair and said, "I might go for a ride this morning. I need some exercise."

"Very well. Good. Lucky for you young chaps who don't yet have to work for a living, hm?"

"Yes," Rufus agreed, making himself walk slowly from the room.

Alone in his bedroom, he tore open the envelope and found himself looking at a page of sloping, smudged scrawl written in pencil, and, apparently some kind of code. Only the name at the end made immediate sense, and Rufus hated himself for the flood of feelings it provoked. Concentrating hard, Rufus read through the 'letter', if that's what it was, trying to decipher some kind of meaning:

"dr Rfis y du fnk i m lyn i ant lyn abrt O 2u. i fnk i f fL 4 u. i ant lyn Sma ant 0 2 me lyk u r. i 12cu Rfis i one 1 u Reno"

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for reading. I hope Reno's letter is translatable if you bear in mind that he only knows letter names and has only a vague inkling that the sounds are different from the names - and that he's writing in a Cockney accent! Reno didn't include any punctuation in his original letter, but this site keeps deleting parts of it if I don't put it in for him. If it makes no sense - all will be revealed in the next chapter.<strong>


	5. Never Again

**Thank you again to everyone who reviewed - your comments are helpful and greatly appreciated. I'm impressed by those people who had no trouble reading Reno's letter. Rufus has to try a bit harder than you did to work it out! **

**The last part of this chapter is a bit dark, but it's necessary to the plot. Guy Sanderson is based on a character from the compilation, albeit very loosely. Can anyone guess who? The first part of this chapter goes back in time a few hours from the end of chapter four, which I try to avoid doing and will change if I eventually finish and re-edit this. If Reno seems a bit out of sorts in this one, don't worry - he will cheer up soon!**

**A special thank you to CameoAmalthea who commissioned this brilliant picture of Reno and Rufus together, and to the talented artist Ow!MyHearteries. **

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five<strong>

**Never Again**

Reno lay on his bed staring into darkness. What was wrong with him? He'd spent all afternoon of his rare day off struggling to write a probably incomprehensible letter to Rufus. Then he'd pestered Lucy, who had entertained Frederick Shinra and his cronies as clients several times in the past year or so, and after half an hour of intense questioning she'd finally remembered that Shinra had once boasted to some friends that his townhouse was in a fashionable part of Mayfair. Reno had walked all the way across town in gathering darkness, and when he'd reached Park Lane, by which time it had gone nine, he'd asked people in the street if anyone knew where Sir Frederick Shinra the famous railway man lived. His sixth enquiry had given him an address just off Grosvenor Street. Finding the house, Reno had wasted another half an hour staring from across the road at the imposing white façade and the rows of glittering, illuminated windows, wondering how one man and his son could possibly require a house so huge, and whether any of those windows belonged to Rufus' bedroom. At last Reno had gathered his courage, whipped up the steps, posted his letter through the heavy iron letterbox, which had snapped to like a trap as he withdrew his hand, and then fled before anyone from the house could catch sight of him.

Had Rufus received the letter? Even if he had, he'd doubtless been disgusted by Reno's ignorance and had most likely already tossed the ridiculous note into the fire.

What a waste of a perfectly good day off! Rufus wouldn't be able to make sense of the letter, and even if he did manage to decipher it, it would make no difference – he wouldn't come back.

The clocks had struck eleven before Reno had arrived back at the Hive, and he had gone straight to bed, not wanting to risk entering the parlour where some of the girls were entertaining a noisy group of men. Now the house was quiet. The bells of St. Mary's struck four, and Reno lay awake, thinking over what he'd written – or tried to write – and wondering what Rufus' reaction would be.

_Stupid, _he thought, turning over and trying to find a comfortable position on the thin mattress. _I should sleep. Bloody Sanderson tomorrow. Least 'e's quick when it comes to it, but Lord – don't he waffle on before an' after! Would they give the letter to Rufus when I put it through the door? It was gone ten. Will he get it in the mornin'? Will he write back? Even if he don't come, I 'ope he writes back. He 'as to believe that I weren't lyin'. If I never see 'im again, I jus' want him to know I weren't lyin'._

:::

Rufus gave a violent start when someone knocked on his bedroom door. He shoved Reno's letter and its envelope into his pocket just in time to conceal them as one of the housemaids, Clara, entered the room carrying a half-full coalscuttle in one hand and a dustpan in the other.

"Oh – beg your pardon Master Rufus, sir!" she exclaimed, as shocked to see him as he had been to hear her knock. "I only came to make up the fire. I thought you were at breakfast or I wouldn't have come in."

It occurred to Rufus that Clara had a look of that doxy of Reno's about her – similar dark curls and large, innocent-looking eyes - but whereas _that_ girl had been vulgar and brazen, Clara appeared properly deferential. At school George Devereaux often talked about the 'natural order' of things and Rufus, always conscious of his father's humble origins, had been careful to listen – to understand the thinking of members of the true aristocracy. Upon his father's death Devereaux would become the fifteenth Viscount something-or-other as he never tired of telling everyone. In slight and subtle ways Rufus and the other boys who came from 'new money' were constantly made aware that their wealth was not enough to win acceptance into the exclusive club of those who were born to a title. Even Rufus' father's knighthood was not enough – a knight, after all, was not a peer.

Like Rufus, Clara knew her place. Rufus granted her a smile. "Never mind, Clara – I finished breakfast early. Carry on."

Taking the nearest book – a volume of Dickens - from his writing desk and opening it at random, Rufus sat in the armchair by the window pretending to read until Clara had finished, all the time thinking only of Reno's letter. His eyes scanned and re-scanned the same sentence - _I wrote it so badly, as that it was odds if any one could read it _- wondering at how apt it was; wondering whether he would be able to make head or tail of Reno's strange message.

"Shall I light the fire for you, Sir?" Clara asked.

Rufus shook his head. "No, thank you. I'm going riding soon."

"Very good, Sir. Shall I send Thomas to attend you?"

Rufus had to hide his impatience. Was it really necessary for his father to employ so many servants that he could hardly move without someone asking him whether he needed anything? Thomas was a competent footman, if rather dour, but Rufus preferred to dress himself and couldn't stand fuss. "No, thank you," he said as politely as he could manage. "That will be all, Clara."

Clara bobbed a neat curtsey and removed herself from the room, together with the depleted coalscuttle and the full dustpan.

Rufus jumped up from the chair, locked the door and walked to the window, pulling Reno's crumpled note from his pocket along with the envelope. The pencil had smudged even more, and Rufus wondered how much of Reno's meaning he would be able to decipher. The light from the window provided only literal illumination. This would require some study. Rufus had always been a good scholar, learning his Latin and Greek quickly through a mixture of diligence and natural aptitude, and he had never had such strong motivation to complete prep as he had for this task.

Sitting at his desk, Rufus smoothed out the creases in the paper with gentle fingers, pausing to trace the letter R of what was clearly supposed to be his name. _Rfis! _

"Reno…" he murmured. It had never occurred to him that Reno might be illiterate. Hadn't he said he read the papers? No – thinking back Rufus remembered him saying, "I know what's going on." Hm. The sort of low cunning he should have expected from such a convincing liar. His anger flared and for a moment he was tempted to crumple the paper and throw it into the grate, but he found that he could no more do that without understanding the message than he could cut out his own treacherous heart and discard all these disturbing feelings that assailed him.

An unpleasant thought struck him – if Reno's reading and writing were so weak, then how had he understood Rufus' letter? Someone must have read it to him. That girl, Es? The Madame of the brothel? His first reaction was shame as he imagined Reno listening to his harsh words – but no, Reno was shameless, and Rufus would be, too. It was a good thing if they all knew what he'd written. They'd conspired against him – it was for the best if they feared he might go to the police.

Rufus knew that he'd been exceptionally foolhardy ever to have given in to Reno. The danger of blackmail was extreme. If his father ever suspected his inclinations he had no doubt that he would be disinherited at once. If only he'd never surrendered to such base desires! If only Reno weren't so damned beautiful!

What was Reno trying to say in the letter? It was obvious that it must have cost him some effort to write it. Rufus read through the string of letters and numbers again, but made little headway at first.

'dr Rfis'. Why was Reno addressing him as Doctor Rufus? No – it must be dear. D. R. So Reno was writing letters according to their names. All right. _Dear Rufus. _Rufus smiled before he caught himself. _Dear Rufus_…

How long had it taken Reno to write those two words? The pencil marks were smudged by the passage of Reno's own hand over them, and so heavily scored into the paper that they formed bumps on the back of it. Writing was obviously new to Reno. What was he so determined to say?

Y must be 'why'. D U. 'Do you'? All right – this wasn't so hard. _Fnk_. Funk? No, that made no sense, and it wasn't a word Reno would use. 'Why do you – think?' It must be. In Reno's accent – that hard Cockney sound touched now and then by something softer from his Irish origins – a 'th' could easily slip into an 'f'. Why do you think I am – lyn? Well, 'lying', clearly. 'Why do you think I am lying?' This was easier than Rufus had expected. On a clean sheet of paper Rufus wrote out all he could decipher of Reno's message:

Dear Rufus, Why do you think I am lying? I (ain't) am not lying about (O = nothing) anything to you. I think I (f fl?) for you. SMA (?) ain't nothing to me like you are. I (1 = want?) to see you Rufus. I (one?) want you. Reno.

SMA? S. M. A. Oh! The girl's name was _Esme_. And she meant nothing to Reno compared to him. But what did that mean? She meant something? Was Reno trying to say that Esme _was_ his girl, but that he liked Rufus better – or that she _wasn't_? Could any of it be believed? Why hadn't Reno just asked whoever had read him Rufus' letter to write a reply?

_Because he means it?_ Rufus wondered, trying not to hope. _Because this is what he truly feels and he doesn't want anyone else to read it? _

'I f fl for you.' That was the key, and try as he might, Rufus couldn't work out what it was supposed to mean. Something about feelings? And 'I _one_ want you'? One? O. N. E.

Only.

_I only want you. _Oh, Reno!

"Oh what does it matter?" Rufus cried aloud. "I can't go back there. I can't!"

He picked up the envelope from the desk and turned it over in his hands. There was no address – no stamp. Reno must have come all this way to deliver his letter in person – this illiterate scrawl that somehow had more effect on Rufus than the most eloquently worded love letter could ever have done.

_He means it, _Rufus thought. _I'm sure he means it. He wants me. He 'one' wants me. _

Rufus smiled, pressing the note to his lips. _Reno!_

Then his smile faded, as he folded the letter carefully and replaced it in the envelope, putting it into the inside breast pocket of his jacket.

_I can't ever go back, _he resolved. _If I do, I'll be lost. I must never see him again._

:::

Rufus didn't write, and he didn't come back. A month after he'd delivered the note to Frederick Shinra's grand house Reno told himself it was time to give up - and tried to tell himself he didn't care. Madame Abeille berated him for the loss of such an important client, coming to his room one morning in an unusually bad temper. Reno was dressed in his own, male clothes, but he'd been doing nothing but lying on the bed staring at the ceiling thinking about Rufus. Madame Abeille tutted. "Lying around again, Reno? You're getting lazy. He's not coming back so get used to the idea."

Reno sat up and stared at her sullenly. "I know. I _am_ used to the idea. Don't mean I 'ave to like it."

"The one we really wanted, and you let him get away!" Madame Abeille complained. "I should have said you weren't available and sent him to Lucy – he'd be back then all right."

"No!" Reno cried getting to his feet. Madame Abeille took a step back, because Reno was almost always easy-going, but, from the way he dealt with customers who got out of hand or who mistreated one of the girls, she knew how dangerous he could be if provoked. "I _told_ you – he's ashamed of being queer," Reno said, keeping his anger in check as much as he could. "Anyway – maybe he's gone home. Luce said they have some kind of big estate up north."

"He's still in town. I check the society papers. Maybe he's found a friend – some pretty Duke's son who doesn't want paying for it. Half those toffs are as queer as bells."

Reno nodded, his eyes hard. "Most likely."

"Shame. You liked him, didn't you?"

Reno shrugged, but he knew he wasn't fooling anyone. "Damn sight better to look at than most punters, yeah."

_And more than that. I wanted him. He wanted _me. _I'm not remembering wrong about that, am I? It _was_ different with him._

"Out of your reach, Reno – a toff like that. Don't go getting ideas above your station – you'll only end disappointed."

"I ain't gettin' ideas about nothin'. I know what I am." He grimaced, remembering Quill's visit of last night. "Got the bruises to prove it."

"Yes. Well, Mr. Quill has always paid very handsomely for your time and at least you can be sure he's going to show up."

Reno's expression darkened. "I don't care. I ain't doin' it no more. Not with him."

"That'll only leave you Freeman and Sanderson regular."

"I'll find others. Plenty interested."

"Well you'd better make up the difference, or I'll have to let the room go to someone who will. You know I like you Reno – but I'm not running a flipping charity here, and the books aren't looking quite as healthy as they should be at the moment."

Reno didn't move, but his look was contemptuous. "I'm your best earner, and you know it," he said. "An' I swear, if Quill comes here again I won't be held accountable for what I might do. He makes my fuckin' skin crawl, and I can't – I _won't_ do it any more."

"What's changed, eh? You used to be so good at not minding."

"No – only acting like I didn't mind. Yeah – I'm good at that. But – it gets to you, you know? In the end…"

Madame Abeille's hard features softened just a little. She moved cautiously to sit on the end of Reno's bed, the yellow silk of her dress rustling as she moved, and patted the thin blanket to persuade him to sit next to her. He hesitated, but then complied, his shoulders slumping, head down.

"Buck up, Reno. I don't like seeing you like this. Lucy has her off days, Lord knows, and even Rose gets a bit weepy when she's drunk too much, but you and Es – you're my steady ones aren't you?" She sighed and put her hand on Reno's arm. "There's always one punter gets to you – and I'm not talking about Quill and his kind. With me it was a baronet – flashy dresser – frightful handsome. Long black sideburns and bright blue eyes. Used to call me his little honeybee, and promised me the earth – always just after. Said one day we'd fly away together. He married an heiress – Miss. Louisa Fitzsimmons if you please. I read all about it in the paper, and it nearly broke my heart! See, I was that soft, I really believed he'd take me away and marry me, like something out of a fairytale."

Reno's smile was bitter. "Least you 'ad yours for a while. I 'ad mine all of a night and a mornin' and I can't forget him. I keep tellin' myself he weren't like the others, but I know they're all the same. Ain't they?"

Madame Abeille shook her head at the hope in Reno's question. Best to kill that quickly. "They are. Every one of them. Look - I'll put Quill off if you like. See how you feel in a couple of weeks. I'll say you aren't well 'til then. But that's the best I can do. It's Sanderson tonight, isn't it? He's not too bad. Nice-looking."

Reno looked up at her and nodded, but his expression was very weary. "Yeah. Yeah, he's not as bad. Hardly does much – mostly talks. Wish 'e wouldn't though. All sin and damnation. Don't like the stuff he says."

"Words can't hurt you," Madame Abeille replied, getting to her feet. "And he tips well, doesn't he? Shame about the Shinra boy, but let's get what we can out of those punters we've got."

"Yeah – all right. I'm only being stupid. Like you say, Sanderson's talk can't hurt me."

"Go out," Madame Abeille advised. "Have a drink or two. You'll soon cheer up."

Reno almost protested – he'd been drinking a fair bit recently, and he knew that path and where it led. Poor Rose was rarely sober these days, and the pink cheeks her customers used to comment on had become red with broken veins. She was losing trade, and Reno wondered how long she'd last before she couldn't keep up her rent on the room. Madame Abeille was a damn sight better than a lot of brothel owners, but, as she'd said, she wasn't running a charity. Reno found he was in no mood to argue the case, and only gave a tired nod. "Might do that," he said, not meeting Madame Abeille's sharp gaze. "But later. I said I'd fix that broken shutter in the parlour didn't I? Give me a couple of bob and I'll go and buy the wood."

"That's the spirit," Madame Abeille said. "Keep busy. Oh – I don't seem to have any change on me. Tell you what – you buy the wood, and I'll pay you tomorrow when we've had some customers in."

Reno didn't object. Whatever else, Madame Abeille stuck to her word and kept the finances fair. Perhaps that was the best you could hope for from anyone? What was the point in wanting things that were never going to happen?

:::

Rufus spent his time doing the kinds of things he'd always done when he wasn't at school – riding, going to the theatre and the opera, attending social functions at the houses of his father's friends and acquaintances, studying his school texts. None of them gave him the pleasure they used to. There had been one miserable night out with George Devereaux who had drunk himself stupid and then insisting on going to a brothel with some other 'friends' he'd somehow acquired during the evening, at which point Rufus had made his excuses and taken a cab home. The only pursuit that really engaged him now was the pointless writing of letters to Reno. He'd finished at least a dozen, and had often got as far as standing in front of a post box with the letter in his hand before returning home to throw it onto the fire.

Each time he picked up his pen, Rufus told himself that he was being unutterably foolish. If his aim were to forget Reno, then writing endless letters full of hideously sentimental outpourings that would doubtless make Reno laugh himself sick if he ever actually got to hear them was hardly the way to go about it. He would try to distract himself by going out for a walk or a ride, and think about nothing but what to say in the next letter. He imagined returning to Reno – wondered what would happen – played the scene a hundred ways in his mind. At night he remembered what _had_ happened, and was shamefully headless of all the warnings he'd heard from schoolmasters about how 'the solitary vice' was scientifically proven to make a man weak, blind or mad.

The garnet ring containing the single strand of Reno's extraordinary hair never left Rufus' finger. He kissed it before he fell asleep each night thinking only of Reno; he woke each morning with nothing but Reno in his mind.

:::

Guy Sanderson was at it again. Reno sat opposite him in the run-down spit and sawdust bar of the Nag's Head, drinking his usual watery beer, while Guy explained his latest theory in his earnest way. Behind his spectacles Guy's dark eyes were focussed intently on Reno as he spoke. Reno tried to ignore the uncomfortable scrutiny.

"You see," Guy was saying, "I believe all men are flawed, and every man is susceptible to one vice more than others. Once he discovers the form his failing takes, it is his moral duty to confront his weakness and endeavour – no – _strive_ – to defeat it. _You_ are my one vice, Reno – my only real weakness. How can I overcome the temptation you represent?"

Reno looked up. "Well – as a 'vice' – I'm 'ardly likely to know the answer to that, am I? Might as well ask a pint of beer to tell a drunkard how to stop drinkin'.

Guy smiled. "You're sharp, Reno. Too good for what you do. Perhaps my redemption would be to save you from this life. You could find respectable employment – in service, perhaps?"

Reno snorted. "Yeah, right. Because I'd 'ave such impeccable references. 'Former whore – no relevant experience unless the master likes shaggin' boys' – every 'ousekeeper in the land 'd be queuing up to take me on. And anyway, no one wants a red-haired footman, so it would be boots or scullery work for me, and I'd honestly rather do what I do." He raised his tankard to Sanderson, his expression cynical. "Least this way I get a pint when I'm on the job."

"Don't joke, Reno! This is a question of salvation – your soul and mine."

"Salvation, eh? Well, how's about you come back to the _Hive_, and try an' _save _me there?" It wasn't easy to smile, but Reno did it. He knew this script by heart in any case.

"We'll continue this conversation there, yes," said Sanderson, sounding all business, as though he didn't know perfectly well what was going to happen in Reno's room; what always happened there.

They walked the short distance from the pub to the _Hive_ in silence keeping their distance from each other. Once they reached the security of Reno's bedroom, Guy relaxed a little. Reno, though, found that he was more tense and less resigned than usual. He forced himself to concentrate on the good things – Sanderson was young, his angular face nice-looking enough, he was clean, he was never rough –

_He's odd. He ain't Rufus… No. Don't think about that._

"Now," said Guy, looking at Reno again in the low light of the single candle, "where were we?"

"I believe I was vice an' you was trying to resist me," Reno said, sitting on the edge of the bed, his head on one side, half smiling.

Guy's hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. "Tell me how!" he whispered.

"Nothin' simpler. Walk away."

Reno unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, as if absent-mindedly.

Guy, watching, licked dry lips, his eyes fixed on Reno's throat.

"I - I should –" Moving closer to Reno, Guy closed his eyes and took a long, shuddering breath. "I will walk away." His eyes opened again. "Next time, I'll be able… Only – this last time. Then I'll stop."

"Just as you say, Sir." Reno opened another button, trailing his fingers over his collarbone. "You can leave now… if you like."

"What have I done to deserve this temptation?" Guy moaned. "What _are_ you? A demon sent to lure me to hell? An angel to lead me to salvation through resisting you? Are you my angel, Reno?"

Reno's hand stilled. "No," he said, too harshly for their usual script. "Don't call me that."

"What?"

"Angel. I'm no angel. No one could call me that!"

_Except Rufus. Once…_

"Then you're a demon?"

"Yeah. A demon you can't resist. Touch me."

"I - can't."

"Touch me. One last time."

"One last time?"

"Yes."

"Never again after this?"

"Never."

"Yes," Guy breathed, reaching under the unbuttoned shirt to touch Reno's chest. Reno had to pretend that his involuntary shudder was a shiver. What was wrong with him? Guy was the easy one – the one he didn't mind…

"Cold 'ands," he said, attempting to explain. Sanderson was too far into whatever the hell it was he got out of this to respond. Reno closed his eyes and let Sanderson touch him, trying not to listen to his murmured words about 'the last time' and demons and temptation. He lay back on the bed as Sanderson undressed him, trying not to listen as Guy went on and on about how beautiful he was – how he was born to lead men into sin – how this would be the last time –

_Shut up! _Reno thought, trying to make his body relax as Sanderson undressed himself. _Shut up, or I swear I'm gonna make this the last time once and for all! How did I ever do this without minding? For god's sake hurry up!_

Guy lay on top of Reno, pushing his erect cock against Reno's groin. Reno had never been less aroused. "After this –" Guy cried – "never – again!" That was all it ever took. Guy came with a sob, hiding his head against Reno's chest. Reno was supposed to comfort him then – tell him it was over – it would be all right from now on - but he could hardly get a word out. All he wanted was Sanderson off him and gone.

"All right," he managed. He made himself stroke Guy's thick brown hair, which was clean and soft. Such a simple gesture of affection ought to have been the easiest lie in the world, but Reno's hands wanted to tense into fists.

As he always did, Guy got up without looking at Reno, dressed quickly and put a half sovereign on the table, saying, "I won't be coming back, so here's something for your trouble. I hope you find your own way out of sin. Goodbye Reno."

It was lucky he never looked back, or he might have seen the newly kindled disgust in Reno's eyes. The door closed softly behind him. "Yeah, right – and see you Saturday," Reno muttered.

If he really wanted to get himself out of this business – and if he had any hope in hell of taking Es with him – then Reno knew that there were still some years of this ahead. Until tonight he'd never doubted his ability to continue in his profession, and he knew he couldn't allow himself to give in to these ridiculous feelings unless he wanted to end up on the streets. "Come on, Reno – get a bleedin' grip!" he told himself, making himself get off the bed. "Sanderson 'ardly touched you – not like some of 'em. Clean up, and on to the next one."

Reno filled the bowl on the washstand with cold water from the ewer and was scrubbing every trace of Guy Sanderson from his skin when there was a sharp knock on the door. Lucy's low voice called, "Reno? Madame A. sent me to tell you – Rufus Shinra's downstairs. Is it all right for him to come up?"


	6. A Safe Bet

**A big thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed and favourited this fic. I've been a little distracted by various things of late, but I'm back on track now. Thank you for your patience.**

**Reno's sister's name, Áine, is pronounced something close to 'On-ya'.**

* * *

><p><strong>Six<strong>

**A Safe Bet**

Reno threw the dirty water out of the window and set the ewer back on the washstand, his hands shaking so much that the jug rattled in the china bowl. He pulled on his trousers and shirt, straightened the thin counterpane on the bed, and started fastening his shirt buttons as he called out, "Yes! Yes, tell him to come up!" Over the wild pounding of his heart he heard Lucy's footsteps retreating along the corridor.

Pacing the room, Reno told himself not to be stupid. _Don't go gettin' your hopes up, _he told himself as firmly as he could manage. _Just 'cause he's come back, it don't necessarily mean nothin' much. Just another punter, Reno, remember that. Don't go expectin' – Christ!" _Reno jumped violently at the confident knock on his door. It took all his willpower to make himself wait for a handful of rapid heartbeats before he reached for the doorknob.

x

Rufus waited until the departure of the tired-looking girl who had seemed to think it necessary to show him the way to Reno's room, as if memories of those stairs, the narrow hall way, the fake gilding, this door - and the occupant of the room beyond - hadn't haunted him continually for the last month. He took a deep breath before knocking on the gaudily painted wood. Determined to seem self-assured, he rapped much harder than he'd intended.

When Reno didn't open the door immediately Rufus began to worry that the knock had sounded curt or angry. What if Reno didn't want to see him? What if Reno were angry with him_, _after that awful, pompous, threatening letter he'd written?

_But I'm the one who should be angry, _Rufus reminded himself. _I'm only here to give him a chance to explain himself, just in case what he said in his note was the truth. I can't let him fool me again – it was probably all a pack of lies. I'm only here to make sure. I have to be sure._

_x_

Reno opened the door, and turned back into the room, tossing his head in an apparently careless manner. "Come in."

Rufus entered the room and closed the door behind him, hesitating before he turned around. When he did, Reno was looking at him, unsmiling, and his voice was flat as he said, "I thought you weren't coming back."

Rufus took a step towards Reno and then halted. "I – nearly didn't. I wasn't going to. I tried not to."

Reno all but flinched at the echo of Sanderson's words in Rufus', and his neutral expression hardened into something like scorn. "Maybe you shouldn't 'ave, then."

Rufus felt a stab of pain that surged into anger, but he couldn't bring himself to leave. His hand moved automatically to the crumpled note in his pocket, and he pulled it out, holding it towards Reno in an attempt at explanation. "I got your letter," Rufus said.

"Yeah – well - I got yours."

They stared at each other across the little room.

"I didn't mean –" Rufus began, even as Reno exclaimed, "I never lied!"

Rufus took another step and Reno was in his arms, Reno's hands in his hair, their mouths crushed against each other in a kiss that gave Rufus all the answers he needed.

"I thought you weren't coming back!" Reno said again, when they finally parted long enough for speech, and this time his tone was entirely different.

"I'm so stupid!" Rufus said. "I knew – I should have believed –"

"It don't matter," Reno assured him, kissing him again. "You're here now. You're real."

Rufus laughed in pure relief. "Yes, I'm real."

"You don't look real." Reno stroked the lapels of Rufus' expensive wool jacket, and touched his face, his lips. "You look like somethin' I dreamed."

"God, I missed you!" Rufus was already unbuttoning Reno's shirt as Reno pushed the jacket from his shoulders and unknotted his silk cravat.

"Always too many clothes!" Reno panted, struggling with the stiff mother-of-pearl buttons on Rufus' elegantly pinstriped waistcoat. "Christ, I want –" He hesitated, shocked at himself. _Just another punter_, his mind attempted to warn him. _Not for you to say what you want._ But he found himself saying it anyway, as he stripped Rufus of the rest of his clothes, his hands and his mouth on Rufus, Rufus touching him, Rufus' perfect body warm and firm against his own. "I want you," Reno gasped as Rufus kissed his neck and pulled him even closer, skin against skin – "I only want _you_."

x

"I was right," Reno murmured, putting his hand over Rufus' where it rested on his hip, lacing their fingers together. Behind him, Rufus pressed even closer, his lips against the back of Reno's neck, his face half buried in soft red hair.

"About what?"

"It's different with you. When I thought you wasn't never comin' back I tried to tell myself I was just imagining it, and you were like all the others – but it _is _different with you. It's like - like it's not even the same thing at all."

"It's wonderful," said Rufus. "The best thing there is. Love."

"That's what it is," Reno agreed. "I love you - and I hate them. I never used to hate them, but then I didn't know how it was supposed to be."

"I hate them, too," Rufus said vehemently, his hand tightening on Reno's hip. "Every single one of them who ever so much as looked at you. I can't stand the thought of it. But you won't have to see them any more. Come away with me - tonight. We'll go to a hotel, and then rent lodgings – anything. I don't want you to stay another night in this place!"

Reno laughed softly, turning around and pulling Rufus against him, kissing his neck, his cheek, his mouth. "You don't know how much I _wish_ it was that easy," he said, smiling. "I'd do it like a shot, if I thought –"

"What?" asked Rufus, agitated. "You still don't believe I'm serious? I know I should have come back sooner – I was an idiot. But I mean it, Reno, I love you. I won't change my mind – I swear it. If it's a question of money –"

"It ain't the money. Or – at least – not only. Rufus – you can't just take me to a 'otel. Don't you know how folks would talk if anyone recognised you? An' I know you think you love me – I know –" He put a finger against Rufus' lips to halt his automatic protest – "I know. I believe you. I feel the same. But love ain't everythin', and maybe it should be – maybe it feels like it _is_ – but it ain't. Your old man -"

"Damn my old man!"

Reno sat up, wrapping his arms around his knees. "You don't mean that. He's your dad. And you ain't just some nobody. You'll have to get married, have heirs – all that."

"I will never get married," stated Rufus firmly. "How can you think that I would?"

Reno smiled at him. "You're sixteen," he said, "An' this is all new. But other things will get to be important – things you don't care about now."

"How would you know? You're only a year older than I am! I know that that this is the most important thing that has ever happened to me. I never thought I'd find someone else like me – I never thought I'd find _you_. You said I'm like something you dreamed – but you're something I could never even have imagined. I didn't think anyone like you existed, and now I've found you I can't let you go. You have to come with me. You can't stay here, in this – this sordid fleapit!"

Reno looked around the little, shabby room, seeing it through Rufus' eyes, remembering Rufus' father's huge town house in fashionable Belgravia. "This place ain't so bad really," he said. "An' it ain't got fleas, thanks all the same! I keep it clean."

"It's barely one step up from a back alley in a rookery!" Rufus put a hand on Reno's arm. "I can't leave you here. Don't ask me to."

Reno sighed. "I can't jus' flit. I know this don't look nothin' to you, but this is mine – you don't know how I worked for this."

Rufus sat up next to Reno and pulled the worn blankets over both of them. "Then tell me," he said.

Reno looked at him and shook his head slightly, cupping Rufus' face with one narrow hand, smiling. "How did anyone get eyes that blue?" he asked, leaning across to kiss Rufus. Reno's fingers trailed teasingly over Rufus' neck, and Rufus almost lost himself to the simple pleasure of Reno's touch, but he needed to understand why Reno was so resistant to leaving this shabby little room in an East End brothel. Catching Reno's wrist, Rufus pulled back slightly, moving his head aside when Reno tried to kiss him again.

"Please," he said, "tell me. I don't understand why you won't just come with me tonight – now! You say I don't know how you worked for this – so tell me. I want to know everything about you, Reno."

Reno sighed. "It ain't much of a story. My folks died, an' I ended up here. I bet yours is a 'undred times more interesting."

Rufus shook his head. "No. No it isn't. I was born my father's son, and I've done everything I was expected to do – until I came here and met you. You said you came from Ireland?"

"Mm."

"Where in Ireland?" Rufus prompted.

"Nowhere. A 'amlet near a place called Kiltimagh." Reno's eyes lost focus, as he made himself recall things he'd spent years trying to put out of his mind. Apart from the odd word to Esme, Reno had never spoken to anyone about his past, understanding perfectly well that his body was all anyone cared about. Rufus' genuine interest was unnerving, but also irresistible. "I don't remember much – we lived in a 'ouse you'd call a _real_ fleapit - with mud floors an' the animals in with us in the winter." He gave a small smile. "Some of _them_ 'ad fleas all right! There wasn't never enough food – I remember that. We was always 'ungry. Pa said there was work in London an' no landowners threatenin' eviction, so he brought us over. My sister, Áine, told me about the ship we come over on, but I don't remember nothin' about it. Pa got work for a while at a ware'ouse down St. Saviour's Dock, but the smog got in 'is lungs, so Mam said, an' he died when I just turned eight. After that, it was the work'ouse." Reno shivered, and although Rufus knew it wasn't because of the cold, he pulled the blankets tighter around them anyway.

"I didn't get to see Mam and the girls after that, until they let Mary come over to the men's side to tell me Mam had died too. Think I was ten or eleven then. Then a couple of years later there was the bad winter when a lot of people got the 'flu, and they told me Mary and Áine died of that. There was a chaplain there used to give me extra food if I sat on his knee and let him do things - 'course I didn't know what it was he was doin' at first, but I twigged soon enough. Reckon that's why I didn't die too, 'cause I got the 'flu, but the food must've made me stronger.

"Then one day I jus' sort of 'ad enough, an' so I ran away. They don't stop you, really – they know there ain't nowhere to go. I thought I'd try the docks where Pa worked, but I was just a scrawny brat an' they wanted men. I was on the way I don't know where, but not back to the work'ouse – that's all I knew -when some bloke stopped me and offered me a shillin' for the same as what the chaplain wanted, so I got to thinkin' there must be a trade in it. I asked around an' talked to the girls on the streets, and one of them told me about this place. Her downstairs took one look at me, an' said, 'It might work, at that,' an' I been 'ere ever since."

Rufus had no idea what to say. "That's – God, that's –"

Reno looked away. "Yeah, but, it's the same for all of us, more or less. Es – she 'ad it worse. My Pa thought he was doin' the best for us, bringin' us 'ere. Hers sold her. She was lucky it was Madame A as bought her. If she weren't so pretty she'd be on the streets by now. See, you think being 'ere an' being on the streets is more or less the same thing, but it ain't. This is safe. This is mine, for as long as I can pay the rent. I got regular customers, and I get to say what they can do an' what they can't. Dressin' up as a girl – that ain't only for them punters what like it – it keeps the law away. Everyone knows the Hive only has girls – 'cept for them as knows different, and that ain't many. Your old man don't know about me – or he'd most likely never've brought you 'ere. If I 'adn't 'appened to come in when I did that day, you wouldn't know either."

"Thank Heavens you did! If I'd never met you…"

Reno smiled. "Yeah. Sometimes – what that chaplain used to call _providence_…"

Rufus shook his head. "A chaplain!" he said. "How could he have behaved like that?"

Reno's smile turned cynical. "It's everywhere," he said. "Whited sepulchres. They were very keen on makin' us go to church to learn about virtue." Reno raised his eyebrows at Rufus' stricken expression. "You're really shocked, ain't ya? Lord!"

Rufus tensed. He hated feeling ignorant. Reno saw it, and took his hand. "It's good," he said softly. "It's _good_ you didn't know. Must be nice."

"I'm not a child," Rufus said. "I _should_ have known."

"No – more like I _shouldn't_. But all I mean to say is that things ain't as simple as you think. If I leave with you tonight – an' I'd love to – you don't know! But she'd say I owed her – Madame A - she won't jus' let me go. I do owe her. She gave me a place to live." Reno released Rufus' hand and hesitated before he added, "And there's Es."

"Es? What about her? You said in your letter that she didn't mean anything to you!"

"No I never!"

"Yes – look –" Rufus scrambled over Reno to retrieve his jacket from the floor, and found the note.

Reno shifted over to the side of the bed where Rufus had been and patted the mattress with a seductive smile. "You'll freeze. Get in."

Rufus didn't move. "I want you to read it."

With a sigh, Reno took his cryptic note from Rufus. "See – right here. 'Es ain't nothin' to me like you are'.

"Exactly."

"I meant how I feel about her ain't like I feel about you. She ain't my girl, Rufus. But she is my friend. Like – like I 'ad another sister. Like that. And – I promised her that if I ever left, I'd try an' take her with me. So – there's that, too. She's looked out for me. I can't let 'er down."

Rufus struggled with the idea of being friends with a girl. The girls he knew all moved in separate worlds from his own, as though they belonged to an entirely different species. When he was young his mother's friends would make a fuss of him, but after her death the only women left in the house were servants. School was all boys, apart from the stern matron and the headmaster's wife, who would occasionally invite the boys to a very formal afternoon tea. Rufus had no siblings and only distant female cousins he hardly ever saw. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to have a sister. For an instant Rufus felt doubt again, but when he looked at Reno, who was watching him anxiously, unconsciously chewing his lower lip, Rufus knew that this wasn't a trick.

"Don't worry," he said, getting back into bed. "I'll think of something. Actually, it might be easier with Esme. If my father found out I was keeping a girl in lodgings somewhere, I don't think he'd mind much. We could say you were sister and brother."

Reno looked at him hopefully. "That might work! But Madame A won't be pleased at losing both of us at once. I got some money saved - might be enough to pay 'er off. I was planning on gettin' out of this game sometime, anyhow. Thought I might buy a ticket on a ship somewhere – start again."

Rufus jumped out of bed again and started to dress.

"What's up?" Reno asked, alarmed. "You ain't leavin' again?"

"No," said Rufus, his eyes bright with resolve. "No – never again. I'm going to arrange things with that woman downstairs. You – pack. And tell Esme to pack, too."

"Rufus –"

Rufus finished dressing, and headed for the door. Reno got out of bed and was about to follow him into the corridor when he remembered that he was naked. "Rufus – Es 'll be workin'. An' we can't just –"

"We can! We can do anything! You'll see!" Rufus disappeared down the stairs.

Reno went back into his room and started to dress. He told himself that Rufus was being ridiculous – Madame Abeille would never let him go just like that, especially not with Esme in tow. And what about his customers? What about Quill and his riding crop; Freeman, who liked to pretend Reno was a girl; Sanderson and his endless _this is the last time_?

"But this time it could be," Reno said aloud, finally daring to hope, in spite of his better judgement. "If Rufus can swing this – I won't never 'ave to see none of them ever again!"

Reno looked around the room, wondering how he'd ever convinced himself to see it as a sanctuary. It was nothing but a small, shabby attic. Pack, Rufus had said, but Reno had no suitcase, and barely anything to put in one if he had. His possessions amounted to one change of clothes - not counting the dress, which he would leave behind for Lucy - necessary items such as Vaseline and tincture of arnica, a razor, hair and tooth brushes, the box of weapons under the bed which now also contained the cabinet photographs 'Horatio Wellington' had sent him, two flannels, two blankets, and the ewer and bowl. All the other furnishings, such as they were, belonged to Madame Abeille. Unlike Esme, Reno spent as little money as possible, saving all he could for his eventual planned escape.

Reno took one of the blankets from the bed and placed all of his possessions in the middle of it, wrapping the green-glazed ewer and bowl in his good jacket. Under the bed was a loose floorboard where Reno kept his savings in an old tobacco tin. Taking up the board, Reno extracted the tin from its dusty hiding place and opened it carefully. He didn't have to count the money to know it was just short of fifty pounds. He'd been planning to save a hundred before buying a ticket on an ocean liner to somewhere; America, possibly, or Australia – somewhere far away from London. That plan had been made before Rufus though, when Reno had only had to take account of himself and Esme. Fifteen pounds would cover two third-class tickets, and Reno had hoped that seventy-five would be enough to live on until they could find work that didn't involve sex. But Rufus' life was in England, and Reno found that he could no longer imagine a life apart from Rufus that didn't seem a pointless waste of time. He sat on the edge of the bed next to his pathetic heap of possessions, holding all the money he had saved so carefully in the small tin in his hands.

_It's a gamble, _Reno thought, trying to be sensible. _Goin' with him – it's a risk. He thinks he's in love with me, but this ain't one of Es's music hall songs. If he throws me over after a few weeks or months I'll ave to start from scratch, an'_ _that ain't so easy in this game. I should tell him to 'old his 'orses – get somethin' sorted before I leave this place. I should –"_

The door was flung wide and Rufus strode into the room without bothering to knock. His eyes were gleaming, his colour high. "I've arranged everything," he said. "We can go as soon as you're ready. You're right about the big hotels, but we can stay at an inn. There are plenty of decent ones near all the main railway stations."

"She's just lettin' me go?" Reno asked warily.

"I told you, I've arranged things. Esme's with someone tonight, but as soon as we have lodgings we can send for her. I'll tell you all about it when we reach the inn. Where's your trunk?"

"I don't 'ave one. Why would I 'ave a trunk?" Reno folded the blanket around his possessions and tied the corners together. "I can carry it like this, see?"

"No you can't – you'll look like a tinker. You'll attract too much attention walking into an inn with that. We'll have to leave your things here. I can send a trunk for Esme's things, and she can bring these, too."

"But – my clothes –"

Rufus untied the bundle and shook out the jacket. The ewer rolled out of it and off the bed, hitting the floor with a clunk. Reno picked it up, turning it to the candlelight. "Cracked," he said.

Rufus glanced at the damaged china in Reno's hands. "Leave it. We'll get another one. Leave everything – it doesn't matter."

"But –"

Rufus took the ewer from Reno and set it back on the washstand. "Ready?"

Reno put on his jacket and slipped the tobacco tin into the inside pocket, wrapped the toothbrush, razor and Vaseline in a flannel and added them to the weapons and photographs in the wooden box, and put on his boots. As he was lacing them up he asked, "You made a deal with her then? Madame A?"

"I'll tell you about it later. Reno - I just want to get you out of here. You do trust me, don't you?"

Reno took his cap from the hook behind the door and put it on, then picked up the wooden box and tucked it under his arm. "Looks like it," he said, rather to his own astonishment.

Rufus kissed him. "Good. Come on."

Reno hesitated. "What about lettin' Es know?"

"_Madame A,_ as you call her, is going to explain the situation tomorrow. Esme will stay here until I can find suitable lodgings, but she doesn't have to work. It's all arranged."

"Just like that," Reno said. Rufus heard the doubt in his voice.

"Yes. It's done. You'll never have to see this place again."

Feeling rather dazed, Reno followed Rufus out into the corridor. They passed Lucy on the stairs. She gave Reno a wan smile. "Is it true? You're off?"

"Yeah. You can 'ave the dress, if you want."

"Cheers." Lucy looked sideways at Rufus, then back at Reno. "Good luck," she said, turning away.

"Yeah – you too."

Lucy didn't answer as she vanished into Reno's old room to retrieve the green dress.

There was no sign of Madame Abeille as Reno and Rufus left _The Hive_.

"Thought she might say cheerio," Reno said, with a last backward glance up at the window of his old room.

"I asked her not to," Rufus said. "Where's a cab when you need one?"

"Just up the way." Reno nodded towards the end of the street where a hansom cab had stopped to unload its passengers. "Why d'you ask her not to see me off?" But Rufus was already half a dozen paces ahead, hailing the cabbie. Reno pulled his cap down to hide his face, and caught up with Rufus at the cab. The cabbie gave him a look that said plainly enough that he suspected Reno was trade, but he wasn't too scandalised to take Rufus' money.

"_The Railway Inn_, near Paddington Station," Rufus told the cabbie. Reno looked around the interior of the cab with interest, although as far as Rufus could see there was nothing special about it. "Ain't never been inside one before," Reno said. "Feel like a right Toff in one of these."

Rufus leaned back, keeping his face in the shadows, glad of the dimly lit streets in this part of town. He was acutely aware of the warmth of Reno's body pressed close against his own in the narrow cab, but the open-fronted vehicle was far too public a place for him to risk doing anything about the instant arousal it caused. He jumped when Reno took hold of his hand. "Whatever deal you made with her, I'm payin' you back – you do know that?" Reno said quietly, removing Rufus' glove as he spoke, squeezing Rufus' fingers gently.

"We'll talk about it later." Rufus tried to move his hand away, but Reno's fingers closed around his. Rufus tried to protest, "We shouldn't –"

"No one'll see – it's too dark." Reno stroked his thumb lightly over the inside of Rufus' wrist and along his palm, and Rufus relented, giving in to the unexpectedly intense pleasure of such a seemingly innocent touch.

"So," said Reno in an easy, conversational tone, as though he wasn't perfectly aware of the extraordinary sensations he was causing in Rufus simply by playing with his hand, "What's this _Railway Inn_ like, then?"

"I've no idea," Rufus replied, attempting to sound nonchalant. "I just remember my father saying once that almost all railway stations have a _Railway Inn_ nearby these days. It seemed like a safe bet."

Reno's hand stilled for a moment, before he laced his fingers through Rufus' and held on, tight.


End file.
